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blished Semi-Weekly. By Subscription, per Year, Ten Dollars. April 16, 1893. 

Entered at the New York Post-Office as second-class matter. 



BY 

RETT WINWOOD. 














































































































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> 



















THORNYCROFT GRANGE. 


A NOVEL. 


By RETT WINWOOD, 

Author of “ Was She a Wife?” “ A Strange Woman f (, A 
Girl's Heart f Etc. 



New York: 

THE F. M. LUPTON PUBLISHING COMPANY, 
No. 65 Duane Street. 


COPYRIGHT, 1892, By 

THE F. M. LUPTON PUBLISHING COMPANY, 


THORNYCROFT GRANGE 


CHAPTER I. 

THE INGESTRE HOUSEHOLD. 

A sunset scene, the sky dabbled and listless enough 
overhead, but on either hand breaking into waves of crim- 
son and scarlet, that swept on, intensifying, to the very 
heart of the west, where they flamed and dazzled like some 
great universal fire. 

There was a soft flush in the air that had set the whole 
landscape to blushing. The hills grew rosy under it, as if 
the last stray sunbeams, in kissing them farewell, had also 
whispered some wondrous secret in their ear. Even the 
valley was warmly tinted and luminous, and the little vil- 
lage nestled so cosily in it, with its odd, Scotch name of 
Linden-Car, had never seemed half so pleasant or inviting 
as it now did, in all this crimson glory. 

Thornycroft Grange, the home of the Ingestres, loomed 
up rather grandly from the summit of the hill just back of 
the village. On its gray, stately walls the western glory al- 
ways shone the warmest and brightest, and lingered longest, 
as if aware of the hospitable hearts that beat within, and 
sure of a cordial welcome. 

In this rosy sunset hour Maud Ingestre was standing on 
one of the long piazzas that take in the entire circumfer- 
ence of the family mansion of Thornycroft Grange — stand- 
ing motionless and silent, like the foolish enthusiast that 

( 3 ) 


4 


THORN YCROFT GRANGE. 


she was, her whole soul drinking the beauty and soft tran- 
quillity of the scene. There was a great deal of latent 
poetry and sentiment in the girl’s nature, for a beautiful 
view always set her pulses to throbbing; and now her 
bosom was heaving, her lips slightly apart, her eyes large 
and luminous, while a soft color was staining her delicate 
cheeks. Her whole attention seemed to be wrapped up in, 
and absorbed by, the wondrous picture upon which she was 
gazing so eagerly. 

Suddenly there came a rustle of drapery close behind her, 
and a warm, soft hand was dropped upon her own, where it 
lay carelessly resting upon the balustrade. She turned 
with a quick start, looking around. 

“Is it you, mamma? ” she asked, with a sigh of relief, 
and a ready smile. 

“Yes, my child,” replied ‘Mrs. Ingestre’s calm, gentle 
voice. “You seemed afraid. Whom did you take it to 
be?” 

“ I did not know who it was,” with a slight hesitation. 
“I believe I had half forgotten myself in this scene before 
me. Is it not lovely ? ” 

“ Very. Italy itself cannot boast of anything more en- 
chanting than some of our American sunsets. We have 
reason to be proud of them. But we cannot stay here to 
admire it now Maud. Magdalen and I have been arranging 
the flowers on the mantel and tables. Now we want your 
opinion on what we have done.” 

“Yes, mamma. I was quite forgetting that we are to 
have company this evening. I will come in directly.” 

Mrs. Ingestre smiled kindly as she took her arm. A truly 
refined and cultivated woman herself, gifted with a delicate 
sensibility and a rare perception of whatever is grandest 
and most beautiful among God’s works, she could fully un- 
derstand and sympathize with her daughter’s mood. 


THORNYCROFT GRANGE. 


5 


They entered the parlor, through one of the long, low 
windows, which was open. She was standing beside the 
centre-table, just dropping a pink japonica bud into a bou- 
quet of rare and exquisite exotics that had been placed 
there — this Magdalen Duprez, of whom they had spoken, a 
wondrous creature to look upon, as she stood there. Tall, 
even beyond the usual height of women, and superbly 
formed, her classic head, with its stately poise, had carried 
to perfection the idea of her majestic, Juno-like figure. It 
was a strong, passionate face from which the masses of 
purple- black hair were swept back in such fragrant waves ; 
the jetty eyes, lighted by a deep, intense glow ; the lips, 
ripe and luscious with their melting ruddiness ; a rich 
carmine flaming from either cheek. Scores of infatuated 
admirers had raved about the magnificent beauty of this 
woman, and scores would again be guilty of the same folly ; 
for she could hardly help but intoxicate and bewilder, with 
all these charms which nature had lavished upon her. She 
looked up as the mother and daughter entered, a shade of 
some hidden feeling sweeping suddenly over her face. 

“ O, you have come, Maud,” she began, with real or 
pretended animation. “ Mrs. Ingestre and I have been ar- 
ranging these flowers to the best of our ability, but we 
missed your taste sadly. We can do nothing just right 
without you, so please let us hear your criticisms at once.” 

She smilingly crossed the room, laying her white hand 
upon Maud’s arm. There might have been a spice of sar- 
casm in what she had said, but if so, her companions ut- 
terly failed to detect it. 

“ How can you speak in that way?” asked Maud, with 
considerable earnestness. “You know that your taste is 
very nearly perfect, Magdalen. I am sure it is much better 
than mine, and mamma is the only person in the whole 
world who would not admit it at once.” 


6 


THORNYCROFT GRANGE. 


Mrs. Ingestre smiled. 

“ You are both abundantly gifted in that respect, but in 
a different way. I like Maud’s manner of arranging 
flowers, because they seem to look so- fresh and pure when 
they come from under her hand. There is nothing gaudy 
or showy about them. Few have such a faculty, you will 
admit that, my dear Magdalen. She makes them seem 
more like God’s messengers— just what they were meant to 
be.” 

Miss Duprez held up her hand deprecatingly. 

“ You are speaking as if you expected me to dispute you, 
Mrs. Ingestre,” she said, quickly and lightly. “But in- 
stead, I agree with you perfectly. Maud has this peculiar 
faculty, and no wonder, for she is the very impersonation 
of purity, herself. Am I not right Miss Dean ? ” 

The question was addressed to Miss Barbara Dean, who 
at that moment entered the apartment. Miss Barbara was 
a maiden lady of near forty, single because she chose to 
be, not from any lack of eligible offers. Maud always 
called her Aunt Barbara, though the relationship between 
them was not so close as that. She had been the second 
cousin of Maud’s father, who was now dead, and had 
lived with the family at Thornycroft Grange for a great many 
years. She made a great pet of the young girl — “babied ” 
would have been the term used, if Magdalen had had the 
choice of expression. 

“Of what were you speaking?” she now asked, fixing 
her penetrating eyes upon Magdalen’s face. 

“ Of a subject that will be sure to call all your powers 
of eloquence into play,” Miss Duprez replied, merrily. 
“ We were speaking of Maud’s excellencies and surpassing 
virtues.” 

She looked significantly at Mrs. Ingestre, who replied to 
the glance by a rather faint smile. The doting fondness 


THORNYCROFT GRANGE . 


7 


of the old maid had long been a standard joke among 
some of the frequenters of the Grange (made so, in the 
first place, through the efforts of Magdalen in that direc- 
tion;) but Mrs. Ingestre herself was too much of a real 
lady to relish any joke gotten up at the expense of an- 
other’s feelings, especially one in which Aunt Barbara and 
Maud figured. To her, there was something really touch- 
ing in the old maid’s devotion to the interests of the young 
girl. 

“ Don’t mind her, Aunt Barbara,” interrupted Maud, 
feeling slightly hurt. “ She is only joking. They called 
me in to look at the bouquets. Are they not beautiful? ” 

“They look well enough, child ; but you must not ex- 
pect a jaded-out person like myself to go into rhapsodies 
over them. We seldom do that, after passing the middle 
age. Am I not correct, Esther ? ’ ’ 

Mrs. Ingestre smiled. 

“ Romance dies from some hearts earlier than from 
others; nevertheless I shall always love flowers myself,” 
she said. “ But, to descend to the practical, which is of 
more importance to us now, are we all dressed for the even- 
ing ? It is quite time, at all events. We are in the coun- 
try, you must remember, where early hours are fashionable. 
Our friends may drop in upon us at any moment.” 

“ Maud could not find anything more becoming than 
that cloudlike stuff,” returned Aunt Barbara. “ She only 
needs a flash of color — one or two moss-rosebuds, or a 
spray of myrtle in her hair, and her toilet is complete. 
Miss Duprez is looking very well, as usual. As for myself, 
nobody will notice the appearance of a yellow old maid, 
and I shall not trouble myself to make a fresh toilet.” 

She laughed good-naturedly. Aunt Barbara had no con- 
ceit in her, and could read the world as it really was. 
Maud, always anxious to favor her fancies, concluded to be 


8 


THORNYCROFT GRANGE. 


governed by her taste since she had expressed an opinion ; 
but Magdalen decided to make a fresh toilet. 

There were a few friends invited and they came early, as 
Mrs. Ingestre had been sure they would. They were nearly 
all assembled when Miss Duprez descended, in a magnifi- 
cent dress of rich amber silk. An audible buzz of admira- 
tion greeted her entrance, as was nearly always the case 
when she went into company. Everybody was ready to do 
homage to her beauty, dazzling and bewildering as it was. 

“Did you ever!” exclaimed Tempy Blake, a spinster, 
aged fifty, who had at once sought out Aunt Barbara, from 
a “ fellowship of feeling,” as Magdalen would have said. 
<< Do see in what a rig Miss Duprez has flashed in upon us ! 
The impudence of some people is really astonishing. One 
would think she was a daughter of the house, in place of a 
poor dependent on Mrs.' Ingestre’s bounty.” 

“ Miss Duprez is dressed rather showily,” assented Aunt 
Barbara. ‘ ‘ But then you know plain dresses are not be- 
coming to her style.” 

“ Then I wouldn’t have any style at all,” went on Miss 
Tempy, indignantly. “Just look at Maud, over by the 
window yonder, as modest and sweet as a new-blown rose. 
I always tell my friends that there isn’t a prettier girl in the 
whole country than Maud Ingestre. She is good as she is 
pretty, too. If she stood in Miss Duprez’s shoes, you 
wouldn’t see her rigging herself out in that shape, to at- 
tract everybody’s attention. That you wouldn’t ! ” 

“ Maud would hardly have fallen into Magdalen’s posi- 
tion — to be a dependent on the bounty of anybody,” said 
Aunt Barbara, with considerable emphasis. “She is too 
high-spirited for that. I believe she would sooner break 
stone on the highway.” 

“ Those two girls are not one bit alike, of course not, as 
I always tell people — my particular friends, you know. 


THORNYCROFT GRANGE. 


9 


But,” sinking her voice a little, “ is it really true that Miss 
Duprez is entirely dependent, that she hasn’t a penny of 
her own ? ” 

‘ ‘ She is as poor as any beggar in the streets, if the real 
truth were known. I ought not to have said so ; but then 
she is putting on altogether too many airs, and deserves to 
be humbled. That very dress was a present from Mrs In- 
gestre. I can’t see what possesses Esther to keep her here 
in this way, though she says it is to be company for Maud. 
Were it my case, I should choose anybody else for company, 
rather than her.” 

“ That’s my idea, exactly ; that is just what I tell all my 
friends.” And Miss Tempy bobbed her head most emphat- 
ically, sending the'" short, crisp curls tossing over her 
wrinkled, wizen face. “ She has been here more than a 
year, now ? ’ 9 

“ Yes.” 

“ How did she happen to come, in the first place ? I’ve 
often wondered, but never quite liked to ask. I have heard 
some say that Mr. Devonshire picked her up in some queer, 
out-of-the-way place, and brought her here. It isn’t true, 
is it?” 

“ Hush ! She is coming this way — she will hear you ! 
Yes, Miss Tempy,” — in a louder tone, for Magdalen was 
close beside her — “ I have really read the book, and I but 
tell you my honest convictions, when I say that it is a won- 
derful book, a wonderful book ! ” 


10 


TH0RNYCR0FT GRANGE. 


CHAPTER II. 

THE RIVAL SUITORS. 

It would have been a pleasant scene for a stranger to 
look in upon, everything seemed so cosy and comfortable. 
There was nothing of the froth and sparkle and jam of 
heated drawing-rooms in the city, where one is bound to 
receive her “ dear five hundred,” whether she has accom- 
modations for so many or not. Instead, the rooms were 
cool and fragrant, the guests few — the creme de la creme of 
Linden-Car society. The soft shimmer of lamp-light stole 
through the odorous air, which was forever athrob with soft, 
murmurous music. Everything seemed to be in precisely 
its proper place, and all was moving on harmoniously. 

“ There was nobody like Mrs. Ingestre for getting up a 
nice little reunion,” was repeated more than once, among 
the guests that evening. 

Maud glided about from room to room, assisting her 
mother in her duties as hostess, and striving to make every- 
body feel happy and at ease. She had never looked more 
lovely than she did that night, with only a knot or two of 
flowers to relieve the mist-like whiteness of her drapery, a 
soft color flaming into her cheeks, and a happy glow light- 
ing her eyes. Perhaps the knowledge that a pair of earnest 
grey orbs, those of Earl Devonshire, were watching her 
every movement with a deep and tender interest, went far 
toward making up her enjoyment of the hour. 

At last, she stood in the embrasure of one of the win- 
dows, the voluminous curtains dropping between her and 
the noise and glare of the room, looking quietly out upon 


THORNYCROFT GRANGE. 


1 1 


the landscape, which was now bathed in a flood of mellow 
light, for the moon was at its full. The scene seemed to 
correspond exactly with her mood, it was so unutterably 
calm and tranquil. 

Suddenly the moonlight left a shadow darkening along 
the floor of the piazza. A quick step came striding toward 
her, and a hand was outheld. 

“ I was looking for you,” said an eager voice. “ Come 
into the garden, Maud, for this is not a ‘ black-bat night ’ 
at all. Just notice how brightly the moon is shining,” 

At first she had drawn back, with something like a shiver, 
but finally she stepped out upon the piazza. She had rea- 
sons for not being over and above partial to the society of 
this man, Leonard Harding, who had addressed her thus 
familiarly ; but then he was their guest, and must be treated 
with courtesy, at least. 

“What did you wish, Mr. Harding?” she asked, qui- 
etly, standing by his side, in the moonlight. 

“ I have something to say to you, Maud — something 
that had much better be said to-night. The garden seems 
deserted. Come down this walk, and I will tell you as we 
go.” 

He tried to lead her on, but she drew back rather 
haughtily. 

“ Really, you must excuse me, Mr. Harding. I have my 
guests to look after. However, I will linger here a mQ- 
ment, if there is anything I ought to know immediately.” 

The man bit his lip, frowningly. 

“It is strange that you should not be more ready to 
oblige me,” he said, repressing his rising anger. “ But I 
am sure you can guess what 1 have to say ; it is only to re- 
iterate my declaration of the other night, and to tell you 
that I love you, love you, Maud Ingestre ! ” 

His voice was hoarse with passion, but the girl shrank 


12 


THORNYCROFT GRANGE. 


away from him, with a gesture of something like repug- 
nance. 

“Iam surprised at you, sir ! ” she exclaimed, with some 
hauteur. “You know very well that this is a forbidden 
topic between us. You have already received the answer 
to your suit, Und know that I can only esteem you as a 
friend. Then why do you still persist in persecuting me 
with unwelcome attentions ? ” 

He caught her hand, humbly, deprecatingly. 

“ My great love must plead for me. You have had more 
time for reflection since I spoke with you last, and I hoped 
that you might have arrived at a different conclusion. But 
I would not cause you pain or trouble. I will be forever si- 
lent rather than do that.” 

“I am more sorry than I can say for what has hap- 
pened,” she returned, in a softened tone. “ If you will it 
so, we can still be warm, true friends, Mr. Harding, but 
nothing more. I can never care for you as you wish.” 

She turned away with a look of regret upon her face, and 
went slowly back to the parlor again. Leonard Harding re- 
mained a few moments longer pacing back and forth the 
length of the piazza, his hands clenched, his teeth set hard, 
as if in a paroxysm of suppressed fury. 

Finally, he turned to follow her, and was met in the 
doorway by Magdalen Duprez. She was a little startled at 
meeting him face to face there, but finally glanced some- 
what significantly at his white lips. 

“The lion has been raging internally, and is ready to 
tear himself,” she said, meaningly. “ But where is the use 
of getting into a passion ? It is your calm, collected men 
who always accomplish most. You ought to remember 
that, Leonard Harding.” 

He looked at her in some surprise. 


THORNYCROFT GRANGE. 


13 

“ What do you know of me or my feeling, Miss Du- 
prez? ” he asked. 

She smiled. 

“ The veriest child might read your secret, and I am not 
blind or an imbecile. Sometimes I almost wish I were the 
latter. It would save me from realizing some rather harsh 
truths. Look yonder, will you ? ” and she pointed to the 
extreme left of the large parlor, where aunt Barbara and 
Miss Tempy were plainly visible through the open door- 
way. 

“ Well? ” he uttered, impatiently. 

“That’s the old maid’s retreat, and Miss Barbara Dean 
is prime minister. There is nothing happens here that they 
do not see. Look ! they are watching us now. One 
would think these shrubs would shelter us from their ob- 
servation, but they do not. They have eyes that see through 
everything. They are talking about us, and they shall have 
something to feed their gossip with.” 

Suiting the action to the word, she struck an attitude so 
coquettish, that the young man could not help smiling. 

“What do you think they are saying now, Miss Du- 
prez? ” 

“ Why, they are running over the gamut of our demerits, 
to be sure. Miss Dean is a crafty old maid, and does not 
love your humble servant any too well. It is fortunate for 
me that she has not succeeded in impressing Mrs. Ingestre 
or Maud with her sentiments. If she had, I should be ut- 
terly miserable.” 

He looked her steadily in the face a moment. He had 
often met this fascinating woman, but somehow she had 
never attracted him as she had done most others. Perhaps 
his love for Maud would account for this, or it is possible 
he understood her real nature better than most did. At 
any rate, he had always kept rather aloof. Now he was 


14 


THORNYCROFT GRANGE. 


really surprised at the singularity of her words and man- 
ner. She was certainly foolhardy to trust him in this way, 
he thought. 

“ Why are you saying this to me?” he asked. 

‘ ‘ Because I think we have played at cross purposes quite 
long enough.” And she looked straight into his eyes. 
“ And because” — here her voice took a lower tone — “ be- 
cause I think we might help each other, could we but come 
to an understanding.” 

There was no questioning her meaning now. She was 
making it manifest enough. 

“ Of course I wonder at your infatuation for Maud In- 
gestre,” she went on. “ However, there is no accounting 
for whims. Believe it or not, every Bottom is sure to find 
some Titania to ‘stroke his amiable ears.' Though a 
nonentity, she has managed to bewitch other men beside 
yourself. Let me cite Earl Devonshire, for instance.” 

Leonard laughed sarcastically. 

“Stay,” he cried. “A light breaks in upon me ! I 
was just wondering at your depreciation of the fairest of her 
sex, and was setting it down to womanly jealousy. But 
the flash of your eyes, when you mentioned Earl Devon- 
shire’s name, has let me into the real secret.” 

Magdalen smiled, still provokingly cool. 

“You are very discerning,” she said, calmly, “ but be 
sure that you read the signs aright. Even a person of your 
discrimination, might be mistaken, you know. But a truce 
to this idle talk — you mean to marry Maud Ingestre ? Pos- 
sibly I might help you toward accomplishing your object.” 

She stood before him unmoved, as dazzling and bewil- 
dering in her wondrous beauty as she had ever been. She 
was as unreadable as the Sphinx. He did not understand 
her — he could not. She baffled all his powers of penetra- 
tion. 


THORNYCROFT ORANGE. 


15 


“ How? ” he asked, rather hoarsely. 

She unclosed her lips to speak, but Mrs. Ingestre passed 
that way just then, pausing near them at the open window. 
Magdalen signed for him to be quiet. 

“Are you not tired of admiring the moonlight, Mr. 
Harding? ” she asked, abruptly. “ Come, let us return to 
the parlor.” 

She took his arm, and they entered the lighted room to- 
gether, pausing to exchange a gay word or two with Mrs. 
Ingestre, as they went on. She was not to suspect the 
character of the conversation which they had just been 
holding. 

They found Maud at the other end of the parlor, just 
rising from a game at chess with Colonel Lennox, an old, 
scarred veteran, who had nothing but his honorable name 
to recommend him. 

“You dear, generous soul!” whispered Magdalen, 
softly. “ I thought you did not like chess.” 

“Nor did I,” returned Maud; “but Colonel Lennox 
could not find anybody else to play with him, and so I 
thought to try my skill.” And then, turning to the Col- 
onel, with a pleasant smile, “ I think, sir, you must have 
used more strategy in real warfare, or you would have made 
but a poor soldier. You did not allow your enemies to 
take the advantage of you as I have done.” 

“ That is easily accounted for, Miss Maud,” replied the 
old warrior, gallantly. “I never met with so formidable 
an adversary, for with you, I had two points to guard 
against all the while — your skill as a player, and the battery 
of your bright eyes.” 

Maud blushingly took up the chessmen once more. 

“Stay,” she said. “You deserve to be beaten again, 
for attempting so daring a compliment. And I give you 


j6 thornycroft grange . 

fair warning at the outset, that I shall show no quarter, this 
time.” 

Maud played skillfully, but she knew Leonard Harding’s 
eyes were upon her, and that thought seemed to make her 
nervous, for her hand shook a little as it fluttered among 
the chessmen. She was glad when the game was through, 
and she felt at liberty to withdraw. 

She stole through the hall to the library, which was quite 
at the other end of the house, only pausing to catch a breath 
of the cool evening air from an open window, as she passed. 
She had expected to find the library deserted, but Earl 
Devonshire was sitting by the table, with an open book be- 
fore him, when she entered. He held out his hand to her, 
with a frank, cheerful smile. 

“ I shall soon think my wishes are potent, Miss Inges- 
tre,” he said. “I had just sent one after you and here 
you come in answer to it.” 

“I was not aware that the library was occupied, or I 
should not have intruded,” she stammered, in some confu- 
sion. 

‘ ‘ It strikes me that you are misconstruing the meaning 
of that word ‘intrude.’ To intrude is to come where you 
are not welcome. You have not done that, Maud.” 

He spoke gravely and earnestly, looking down into her 
blushing face. It was the first time he had ever spoken to 
her thus familiarly, ever called her by her first name, Maud. 
The slow, tender way in which his lips lingered over the 
word, told the whole story. 

“You know that you could never come unwelcome into 
my presence, Maud,” he went on, clasping her hand in a 
warm, eager pressure. “ It is the wish of my life to always 
have you with me— to claim you as the other half of myself 
— my wife ! ’ ' 

His tones never relaxed their grave seriousness though his 


THORNYCROFT GRANGE. 


i; 

fingers quivered over her own, and his hot breath fanned 
her cheek. Those tones thrilled through her whole being, 
as those of mortal had never done before. 

“ My love for you has been growing ever since I knew 
you first. I am sure I have studied your character and dis- 
position well, and I have found in you the perfection of 
my ideal of what true womanhood should be. It would be 
the height of bliss to claim you as my own. May I hope to 
do th|it, Maud ? ” 

He had spoken earnestly, frankly. It was no time for 
maiden coyness or diffidence. His honest,, simple avowal 
was deserving of a candid answer. 

“You may. I do love you, Earl,” she said, in a soft 
whisper, lifting her eyes for a second to his own, and then 
dropping them suddenly to the floor, while a faint scarlet 
flushed over her face. 

This simple avowal seemed to be all he cared for. He 
drew her to him, and held her there for single a instant, so 
that her heart beat fast and deliriously against his own, and 
then let her go, looking down at her, proud and smiling. 

He detained her but a moment longer, merely to draw a 
circlet of gold from his pocket-book, and place it upon her 
finger. 

“It was my mother’s ring,” he said, half sadly. “It 
has been in our family for years, and you will find our seal 
upon it. To but one person in the whole world would I 
part with it — to my betrothed wife.” 

Maud received it as it had been given, as a sacred pledge 
of their affection for each other. Then he led her to the 
door, and they parted. 

2 


THORN V CROFT GRANGE. 


18 


CHAPTER III. 
a woman’s heart. 

It was a singular love story to which the girl had just 
listened— singular only from the manner in which it had 
been told, for we all know that the story itself is as old as 
time. But it was like Earl Devonshire, for all the world — 
straightforward, earnest, and told in calm, sincere tones. 
He was not one to deal in foolish rhapsodies ; neither did 
he seek to detain her after having received the assurance of 
her regard. It was not a time for that. He recognized 
the rights of her other guests, and did not seek to infringe 
upon them. 

Maud stole softly out, thinking to go directly to her 
room, for she wanted a moment in which to collect herself, 
before mingling once more with the gay throng below. 
She was afraid of her tell-tale face, just then, if the truth 
must be told. 

In crossing the hall, she met Magdalen, who was going 
toward the library. She would gladly have avoided her, 
but they were nearly face to face before she heard her step. 

“ How lovely you are looking to-night, Maud?” Miss 
Duprez stopped to say. “ I wonder where you stole that 
charming color — you are blooming as a Hebe ! ” 

She lifted her black eyes to the girl’s face, in sudden, 
half-suspicious scrutiny. Maud turned from her gaze, in- 
voluntarily, but in a moment had rallied herself. 

“If I am a Hebe, what shall we call you? ” asked she. 
“The royal Juno, or a priestess of the sun ? ” 

Magdalen laughed. 


THORNYCROFT GRANGE. 


l 9 


“Do not give me too important a role; you know I 
could never sustain it. But your guests are waiting, fair 
Hebe, and I will not detain you.” 

She raised Maud’s hand with mock deference, and raised 
it to her lips. Something glittered in the lamplight upon 
one of the white, taper fingers. Her keen eyes caught it, 
and remained fixed upon it for a single instant, as if spell- 
bound there. Then she dropped the hand suddenly. 

“ Adieu,” she said, gayly. “ Juno was a greater god- 
dess than Hebe, so I shall not kiss your hand, after all. I 
must try and sustain my role, you know.” 

She smiled again, sweeping grandly on to the library, as 
if she meant to borrow the bearing, as well as the name of 
the fabled goddess. 

But the meeting with Maud had prepared her to go 
through with what was to follow. It had made her mistress 
of her position, and given her time to collect her forces as 
best she might. She paused but a moment outside the 
library door, and then went in, drawing her breath hard, 
once or twice, between her shut teeth. Mr. Devonshire was 
standing at one of the low windows, looking out, but 
he immediately came forward, as she entered the apart- 
ment. 

“ A thousand pardons ! ” she cried, affecting a start, as 
her eyes fell upon him. ‘ 1 1 imagined the library was quite 
deserted.” 

She had gone there on purpose to meet this very person. 

“ You are welcome, at all events, Miss Magdalen.” 

“So 'you say, being too gallant to confess to anything 
else. But I wonder if you have been spending all your 
evening mewed up in this quiet place ? You must have en- 
joyed yourself ! ” 

“I have,” he replied, seriously. “Indeed, this has 
been the happiest evening of my life, without exception.” 


20 


THORNYCROFT GRANGE. 


She was silent a moment, looking at him a little curiously. 
Perhaps she was also revolving her own position in her 
mind. At any rate, she determined to strike a direct blow 
in her next remark. She knew he had a revelation to make 
to her, and now meant to take the confession out of his 
mouth. It would seem less as if she had more than a 
friend’s interest in the man beside her. 

“Indeed ! ” she began, with a meaning smile. “The 
mystery begins to clear itself. I wonder that I had not mis- 
trusted sooner. I met Maud in the hall, just now, blushing 
like some June rose. Has she been the companion of your 
exile?” 

“Yes.” He spoke frankly, looking her full in the face. 

‘ ‘ I thought, a long time since, you had suspected my 
secret. I would gladly have told you sooner where my 
affections have been bestowed, but you never seemed to 
give me an opportunity. We are such old friends, that I 
knew you would rejoice in my happiness.” 

“ Of course, Mr. Devonshire. But you would hardly 
have kept your secret so well, had I not felt pretty thor- 
oughly convinced in my own mind that Leonard Harding 
was the favored individual with our brown-haired Maud. 
What absurd mistakes people will sometimes make ! ” 

“It is strange that you should have made one of that 
kind, Magdalen. Mr. Harding is not a person Maud could 
ever especially fancy. It must be you are not very deep in 
her confidence.” 

“ Oh, no ! ” affecting deeper seriousness. “ I suppose it 
is all my fault, though. You know I was always very self- 
sufficient and reserved, myself. That may have kept. Maud 
at a distance. Besides, she has other confidants — her 
mother and Miss Dean.” 

He seemed to take but very little notice of her reply. 
Perhaps he did not hear it, even. 


THORNYCROFT GRANGE. 


2 


“ I have long felt this love for her growing in my heart, 
but it has never been confessed until to-night. I cared for 
her, though, long before so much was confessed in words. 
I wished to tell you of this, Magdalen, because of the past, 
in which we have been like brother and sister to each 
other. You hold a place second to Maud’s alone, in my 
heart ! ” 

He had approached and taken her hand. She turned her 
face suddenly. Why need he have spoken just then of that 
past, of which the memory, even, was treasured in her 
heart at that very moment, as something so inestimably 
precious? For a single instant her lip quivered, and she 
grew pale ; but she had too much at stake to betray herself. 

“I hope you will be happy, Earl,” she said, gliding 
silently by the “ brotherly ” attachment of which he -had 
spoken. “ I am sure you will be, for Maud is a noble 
woman. But come, you have made me father-confessor, 
and now for a penance I shall take you back to the parlor 
with me.” 

She glided quickly out at the door, motioning for him to 
follow, in her gayest and most imperious manner. He did 
so, though rather reluctantly. He would gladly have said 
more to her of his new-found happiness, as Magdalen was 
well aware, but she felt in no mood to listen. So she led 
him on, chatting gayly and carelessly as they went. To 
have looked at her sparkling face, no one would ever have 
suspected all the mad rage and fury that was even then 
seething in her heart. 

Aunt Barbara had left the “ old maid’s retreat,” when 
they entered the parlor, and was turning over a book of 
engravings at the centre-table. She looked up at them a 
little uneasily, as Magdalen was not slow in observing. 

“ The old witch is afraid I am interfering with the plans 
of her darling,” she muttered, under her breath, and 


i 


22 


thornycroft grange. 


straightway threw as much e?npressment as she was able into 
her manner toward Mr. Devonshire, for the mere gratifica- 
tion of annoying Aunt Barbara, whom she most cordially 
detested. 

But she could not play at this game for any length of 
time, for her companion soon spied Maud, and hastened to 
her side, with a half-muttered apology to Magdalen, as he 
left her ; and the latter had the satisfaction of seeing the - 
girl’s cheeks flush and her eyes light up, as he approached, 
and of knowing, moreover, from his manner, that he had 
been as observant as herself of these unmistakable evidences 
of the light in which Maud now held him. Aunt Barbara 
had also been on the alert, and now looked somewhat re- 
lieved, for she more than mistrusted the sentiments with 
which her neice had learned to regard Mr. Devonshire. 

After that, Magdalen Duprez was unnaturally gay and 
brilliant. It was the only way in which she could conceal 
the misery that seemed to be killing her by degrees, as it 
were. She tried to find Mr. Harding, to tell him of the 
engagement between Mr. Devonshire and Maud, but he was 
nowhere to be seen, and finally, in answer to the inquiries 
she ventured upon, one told her that he had left some time 
before, having been sent for by some of his patients. 

It would have been a relief to have had a long conversa- 
tion with him, in which she could have found an escape- 
valve for her pent-up emotions ; but that gratification was 
denied her. Therefore she still kept them hidden deep 
within her turbulent heart, wondering, sometimes when they 
were fiercest, why she did not go mad then and there, and 
gnash her teeth, and tear at the ebon masses of her hair. 
She felt wicked enough to do that, or anything else that 
was desperate. 

She was heartily glad when the last guest had gone, and 
the house sank into quiet. Then, for more than an hour, 


THORNYCROFT GRANGE. 


23 


she lay prone upon the floor in her own room, with the key 
securely turned against all intruders, fighting with the sharp 
pain that seemed tearing at her vitals. As matters were, 
she was glad to lie there in the night and darkness — she 
knew it would make her braver and stronger to meet the 
future ; or, if not stronger, at least more callous, and above 
all, more entirely mistress of herself. And this was what 
she wanted, and determined to obtain — self-command ! 

She descended to the breakfast-room the next morning, 
looking jaded and pale, and feeling a thousand times more 
miserable than she looked. Nor did the sight of Maud’s rosy 
and smiling face, as she sat opposite, serve as a balm for the 
wretchedness she could not wholly conceal. 

“What is the matter, Magdalen?” asked Mrs. Ingestre, 
from behind the tea-urn, her voice betraying real solicitude. 
Are you quite well, this morning ? ” 

“Quite, thank you, madam, with the exception of a 
slight headache, which is not worth minding. It will wear 
off soon, I think.” 

Miss Dean was seated at Mrs. Ingestre’s right hand. She 
turned suddenly, eying Magdalen with some curiosity. 

“I suppose you attribute it entirely to late hours, and 
last night’s dissipation,” she said, very quietly. 

“ Certainly ; that seems the most probable explanation.” 

“Perhaps it does,” speaking with some significance; 
“ but I had always thought you remarkably exempt from 
the effect of late hours. You generally come out as fresh 
and rosy as Maud has done. Did you ever see her looking 
more blooming ? ” 

Miss Dean’s manner was quiet enough ; but there was a 
sparkle in her eyes that spoke to Magdalen of a deeper 
meaning than the words themselves conveyed. She under- 
stood it and nerved herself instantly for the conflict, if 
there was to be one. 


24 


THORNYCROFT GRANGE. 


“She is irresistible, as usual. It is useless to praise 
Maud to you or Mrs. Ingestre. She seems happy, and 
must have enjoyed herself last evening more than I did.” 

Maud blushed until her face was rosier than ever. 

“ I did have a very pleasant time,” she said. “ It was 
the most delightful company I have met with for a long 
time.” 

Miss Dean nibbled her waffle, looking across the table at 
Magdalen. The latter seemed to take this look as a sort of 
malicious defiance, for she immediately became gay and 
talkative, meeting Aunt Barbara’s keen scrutiny without 
flinching, skillfully parrying her covert thrusts so that her 
sharpest words — for she seemed inclined to be more than 
usually severe with Magdalen this morning — rattled about 
her ears as harmless and futile as spent balls. It was a kind 
of skirmishing in which the elder lady soon felt herself at 
a disadvantage and was glad to abandon, finally, for she 
clearly saw that she was likely to be worsted. 

As they arose from the table, Mrs. Ingestre drew Magda- 
len into her own dressing-room, placing a chair for her at 
one of the windows. 

“ I have a word to say to you, my dear,” she began, a 
little nervously, “ something that you must know sooner or 
later, and I can tell you better than Maud could.” 

She paused, as if at a loss. 

“Well, madam?” Magdalen crossed her hands in her 
lap, the very picture of meek and quiet attention. 

“ You have been so long a member of our household that 
you quite seem like one of the family,” Mrs. Ingestre went 
on after a pause. “Indeed, I have come to regard you 
almost in the light of a second daughter. May I speak 
plainly to you, as I would to a child of my own ? ” 

“ Certainly. I shall be glad to have you do so,” elevat- 
ing her eyebrows the least bit in the world. 


THORNYCROFT GRANGE. 


25 


“It is about — about Earl Devonshire!” Mrs. Ingestre 
spoke now with considerable effort. “I have been afraid, 
sometimes, that you cared more for him than you ought ! 
That he was dearer to you than a mere friend ! ” 

Magdalen got up slowly, crossing over and kneeling be- 
side Mrs. Ingestre’s chair. 

“ I see how it is,” she said, quietly. “You have thought 
that I loved him ! I do, but only as a benefactor, a very 
dear friend. He has done so much for me, you know. He 
was my friend before I came here to Thornycroft Grange — 
my friend when I could claim but very few ! I owe every- 
thing to him, even the privilege of living here with you. 
He is my brother, and as such I care for him. I could not 
love an own brother better.” 

“ Mrs. Ingestre breathed a sigh of relief. 

“ I am glad it is no different, and now I will tell you 
why, Magdalen. Maud came to me this morning to tell 
me of a new happiness that had crowned her life. She and 
Earl love each other— they came to an understanding last 
night. I was really afraid that you cared for him in the 
same way. I should not like to see you and Maud rivals, 
you know. That is why I have spoken to you.” 

Magdalen was silent a moment. When she finally spoke, 
her tone was half-sarcastic. 

“ I suppose we are indebted to Miss Dean for the origina- 
tion of such an absurd idea,” she said, energetically. “Old 
maids are wonderfully far-seeing in such matters, though I 
really wonder that a person of Miss Dean’s abilities should 
not be gifted with a more subtle instinct of penetration.” 

She arose, while speaking, sweeping across the room in 
her old, haughty manner. 

“To be sure, Barbara did first suggest the suspicion,” 
admitted Mrs. Ingestre, with some hesitation, “ but it was 
with the best of motives. We were discussing it this 


26 


THORNYCROFT GRANGE . 


morning, early, Barbara, Maud and I. I could not but give 
credence to her suspicion, when you came down to the 
breakfast table, looking so ill. I am very glad we were 
both mistaken.” 

“ I only regret that you should ever have thought of 
anything of the sort,” said Magdalen, hurriedly, her back 
to the light. “ I have long mistrusted where Earl's affections 
were bestowed. I was not so sure of Maud. Mr. Harding, 
the young surgeon, has been extremely attentive to her of 
late, you know.” 

“An attention which my daughter has always resented, 
and would gladly have had withdrawn,” exclaimed Mrs. 
Ingestre, quickly. “But that is neither here nor there. 
She and Earl are now engaged, and with my perfect ap- 
proval, also ! ” 

“ I wish them every imaginable happiness. But if this is 
all you have to communicate, I will now withdraw. My 
headache is really worse, instead of better, and I wish to 
retire to my own room.” 

“Stay! Let me ring for Jenny. She shall fix you 
something to take for it — and I will sit by you and bathe 
your head, if you will lie down.” 

Magdalen pulled her hand away from the bell-rope, 
rather impatiently. 

“Oh, no, Mrs. Ingestre. I am better -as I am, than I 
should be under Jenny’s dosings. I only want a little rest 
and quiet.” 

She passed out quickly, as if resolved to end the confer- 
ence there, bowing a very courteous adieu to Mrs. Ingestre, 
as she went. 

“The senseless idiots!” she muttered with flashing 
eyes, as she crossed the passage to her own room. “ They 
would trample my heart in the dust as remorselessly as that 
of some dog cringing at their feet ! But it is all for that 


THORNYCROFT GRANGE. 


27 


baby-faced Maud ! Nothing is too good for her. My 
Lady Ingestre would gladly send me on a pilgrimage to 
Mecca, barefoot and penniless, if she could serve the in- 
terests of her delectable daughter by so doing. But n'im- 
porte / If they think I am going to submit quietly, they 
are very much mistaken in Magdalen Duprez ! ” 

A sneering smile played about her red lips. On enter- 
ing her own apartment she paced back and forth across it 
for a few moments, as if in earnest thought, but finally 
seated herself at the open desk, and dashed off a few hasty 
lines. These she carefully folded and sealed, and then 
arose and pulled the bell-rope. The servant who appeared 
in answer to the summons was Lusette, a gay, dashing, 
French woman, who held the position of waiting-maid to 
Maude and Magdalen. 

So it is really you, Lusette ? ” she asked, looking around, 
as the girl made her appearance. “Iam glad, for had it 
been one of the other servants, 1 should surely have sent for 
you.” 

‘ ‘ I want a faithful messenger to go on an errand for me. 
I must have some one I can trust — some one who will do 
my errand, and keep a quiet tongue in her head.” 

“ You know that I will do just as you tell me, mam’selle ; 
and I can keep a secret, too.” 

Magdalen looked the girl straight in the face a moment, 
as if trying to intimidate her. 

“ It will be well if you do, Lusette,” she said, impres- 
sively. “Otherwise I might consider it my duty to bring 
up some old matters that you might not care to have reach 
Mrs: Ingestre’s ears. You are probably well aware to what 
I refer.” 

Lusette turned pale. 

“ Don’t say another word, Mam’selle ! ” she cried, im- 


28 


THORN YCROFT GRANGE. 


ploringly. “ You shall find me devoted to your interest. I 
will do whatever you wish.” 

“See that you do, Lusette, and all will go well with you. 

I have no desire to work you ill. All I wish of you now is, 
to take this letter to Mr. Harding. Steal out quietly, so 
that no one in this house will know of your errand.” 

Lusette took the letter. 

“I will go dire dement," she said glibly, gliding back to 
her broken French, now that she was more at ease. 

Magdalen watched her departure with a covert smile 
upon her lips. Here was at least one being whom she had 
under her thumb, and now she meant to keep her there. 
This flashy French girl would make a very useful tool, on 
occasion. 

In less than an hour Lusette was back again, bringing the 
same letter she had taken away. 

“What is the trouble? Why did you not leave my 
note ? ” Magdalen asked, in some trepidation. 

“I thought you might prefer to keep it by you, mam’- 
selle. Monsieur Harding is away, and will not be back 
again until Tuesday next. He was called away on some 
important business early this morning. I think he has gone 
to New York.” 

Magdalen uttered an exclamation of dismay. This note 
contained a request for an immediate interview. Her 
scheming mind needed the active co-operation of his. Now 
everything must be deferred, and she must bear in silence 
still longer the misery that was tearing at her heart. 

“Vexatious ! ” she muttered, her brow wrinkling into an 
angry frown. And then, suddenly seeming to recollect the 
presence of the maid, she resumed, more calmly, “That 
will do, Lusette. You may go now. I am glad, though, 
that you brought back the letter instead of leaving it at Mr. 
Harding’s office.” 


THORNYCROFT GRANGE. 


29 


CHAPTER IV. 

MAGDALEN MAKES A CALL. 

A few days slipped by, “ velvet shod,” at Thornycroft 
Grange. Maud was strangely, deliriously happy. The 
feeling of loving and being loved was still something very 
new and strange to her guileless heart. There seemed a 
deep, ecstatic joy in the bare idea. She was unceasingly 
glad and thankful for this unspeakable bliss. Even though 
her young life should now be suddenly overclouded forever, 
she felt that she could earnestly praise God for the cup of 
rare delight that had once been held to her lips for her to 
quaff her fill, and that she could better and more bravely 
meet and bear every ill of the future, on account of it ! She 
had loved, and been beloved ! Wondrous and intoxicating 
thought ! 

Earl Devonshire came nearly every day to Thornycroft 
Grange, and Maud honestly thought she discovered some 
new beauty and nobility of mind or character, at every 
visit. She could hardly realize that this grand, princely 
man could stoop from the high pedestal to which her ad- 
miration had raised him, to mate with such as she. Her 
great passion made her strangely humble. She felt herself 
to be a weak, foolish girl, while he was the greatest and 
most noble of men. 

The subject of the engagement was discussed more than 
once in the family conclave, for, though reserved and re- 
ticent toward outsiders, there was a charming frankness 
and candor among the members of this happy household. 
Magdalen was rarely present at such discussions, and then 


30 


TH0RNYCR0FT GRANGE. 


only when she had interrupted one of them by coming in 
unexpectedly, for they were never commenced in her pres- 
ence, which at such times always threw a restraint over the 
conversation. Nevertheless, she knew enough of the prog- 
ress of affairs to feel convinced that the engagement was 
fully consummated, and that it was entirely agreeable to all 
parties concerned. 

When Mr. Devonshire called of an evening, Magdalen 
managed to see as much of his society as was possible. 
She exerted herself as she had never done before, 
brought to bear all the dazzling array of her bewildering 
charms, even tried the effect of covert sneers against 
Maud and Leonard Harding, but all to no avail. Earl 
was utterly unmoved. He would laugh at her insinua- 
tions, treating them as some idle jest, and turn from her 
intoxicating beauty to contemplate the blushing loveliness 
of Maud Ingestre with a sigh of relief and rapture. His 
whole soul seemed bound up in this pure, sweet girl, 
and at such times the infuriated woman could have torn out 
her own heart, in her unavailing rage and despair. 

Mrs. Ingestre and Maud knew nothing of this, or if 
they had suspected anything at first, their fears were now 
entirely allayed, and they believed that Magdalen took 
only a sisterly interest in Earl’s welfare. But not so with 
Miss Barbara Dean. She had passed through quite an ex- 
perience in her eventful life had had her eyes thoroughly 
opened, and could see things more nearly in their true light, 
and so fully realized the game that Magdalen was play- 
ing. 

“Miss Magdalen, let me warn you that you are not 
wise,” she said one evening, when Miss Duprez had mani- 
fested more evidently than usual her desire to monopolize 
the attentions of Mr. Devonshire. 

“ Indeed, you display anything but wisdom,” her tone 


THORNYCROFT GRANGE. 


3 * 


provokingly cool. “ You ought not to waste your strength 
in a futile struggle after the golden apples of the Hesperides 
when you cannot help but see how securely they are kept 
beyond your reach.” 

They were standing near the open window, while Mrs. 
Ingestre, Earl and Maud were grouped about the piano at 
the other end of the apartment. Magdalen suddenly 
turned her back upon them, leaning forward as if to look 
from the window, but her face glowed with the white heat 
of smothered passion. 

“ Thank you, Miss Dean, for the very friendly interest 
which you seem to take in my welfare,” she returned, 
rather fiercely. “I shall be likely to do better in future, 
since I have an Hecuba to rail at me, and set me right ! ’ ’ 

She had unconsciously raised her voice in the fierce heat 
that consumed her. Aunt Barbara only smiled at the 
covert thrust. She was about to reply, when Mrs. Ingestre 
called out pleasantly, from her station by the piano : 

“ My dear Magdalen, what have you and Barbara found 
to quarrel about now? ” 

“ Not much, Mrs. Ingestre — only a question in mythol- 
ogy,” Magdalen returned sweetly. “ I think I have finally 
settled it to Miss Dean’s satisfaction.” 

Aunt Barbara smiled again, while Mr. Devonshire, who 
stood nearest to them, of the three grouped about the 
piano, looked suddenly at Magdalen, with a curious light 
in his eyes. She saw it, and wondered with considerable 
secret uneasiness, if he could have possibly overheard what 
they had been saying. 

Thus the days sped on, and Tuesday finally came 
around. Lusette had discovered by some means that Mr. 
Harding was expected to return on the twelve o’clock train, 
and she reported as much to Magdalen. The latter felt 
that she must see him immediately, and make him ac- 


THORNYCROFT GRANGE. 


32 

quainted with the progress of affairs since his departure. 
Her extreme restlessness would not admit of delay, or the 
assignment of some secure place for meeting. Therefore, 
though not without many doubts as to the prudence of the 
step, she resolved to visit him at his office. 

It was near two o’clock in the afternoon — the usual din- 
ner-hour at Thornycroft Grange, but Magdalen excused 
herself, under the plea of indisposition, and waited quietly 
in her room until after the bell had sounded, and she heard 
Mrs. Ingestre and Maud descend to the drawing-room. 
Then she hastily wrapped a cloak about her, muffling a 
thick veil over her face, and stole carefully down-stairs, and 
out at a side door, speeding along a by-path that led 
through the fields of Thornycroft Grange to the village, 
thinking she would be less likely to be met and recognized 
there, than in the more frequented highway. 

She found Mr. Harding in and alone, when she reached 
his office, which was situated just at the edge of the village. 
We have said little about this man or his business, hereto- 
fore, but now we will be more explicit. He was a singular 
character, and one which very few people fully understood 
— perhaps no one among his acquaintances at Linden-Car. 
They only knew that he was handsome, polished and witty, 
and exceedingly agreeable whenever he chose to make him- 
self so. But this was not often, and he could be the most 
imperious and domineering of men, on occasion. There- 
fore he was rather feared and dreaded than loved among 
the people of Linden-Car, where he had been located 
nearly a year. 

He was a surgeon by profession, but moved in the first 
circles of the village, being known to have come of a good 
family. He appeared to be a man of means, and made 
his profession merely nominal, though always ready to at- 
tend whatever came under his care. He was one of those 


THORNYCROFT GRANGE. 


33 


clever fellows who can turn their hand to anything, and 
was often called in, in the place of one of the^ practicing 
physicians, in cases of sudden illness which did not promise 
to become too serious. In this way he had won for himself 
quite a reputation. 

Most men have their hobbies; Leonard Harding had his 
— chemistry. Of this science, he was an indefatigable 
student, though what, if any, good came from his constant 
trials of experiments with his chemicals, no one but him- 
self really knew. His office looked more like a laboratory 
than anything else, and even contained a small furnace and 
an alembic, besides much valuable and costly apparatus. 
He was certainly more than an amateur in the science of 
which he appeared to be so fond, though whether he had 
ever turned it to practical utility wasbest known to him- 
self. 

He was seated at the table, looking over a pile of letters 
that had accumulated in his absence, when Magdalen Du- 
prez knocked at the office door. It was opened by black 
Jake, a negro boy kept to run errands and take care of the 
rooms — opened just far enough to show his woolly pate, 
thrust for a single instant into the crevice thus made, and 
then suffered to slam back into her face. 

“ Good lor’, Massa Hardun, ef it ain’t a woman! ” he 
exclaimed, turning to the surgeon, and rolling up his eyes. 
“ Dis am de second one what has come pokin’ round dese 
premises within de week ! What on earth brings dem here 
am more dan dis nig can tell, no how ! ” 

His master looked up frowningly from the open letter be- 
fore him. 

“Don’t stand there, you blockhead !” he exclaimed, 
“ but invite her in.” 

Jake now flung the door wide open, and stood there 
grinning from ear to ear. 

3 


34 


THORNYCROFT GRANGE. 


11 Massa Hardum says you to please walk right in, mis- 
sus,” he said, with the most obsequious of bows. “ Never, 
you mincf dat nasty litter, nor all dem are chemicums, but 
come right along. You’s welcome, perfectly welcome, you 
is.” 

He placed a chair for her, with another bow and a grin, 
carefully dusting it, in the first place, with his pocket-hand- 
kerchief. Mr. Harding cast a single scrutinizing glance at 
his visitor, and then said, hastily : 

“ There, you may go now, Jake. My chambers will 
certainly need dusting and airing, after having been closed 
so long. See that you do it well, too ! ” 

Jake bowed with another broad grin, and bobbed out 
at the back entrance, muttering as he went. He had 
scarcely disappeared, when Dr. Harding arose suddenly 
and crossed over to his visitor’s side, hastily taking her 
hand. 

“To what am I indebted for this visit, Miss Duprez?” 
he asked. 

“Then you know me?” and she flung back her veil 
with an attempt at a smile. “ I had hoped my disguise 
would have proven more effectual.” 

“The attempt was quite thrown away, if it was made 
for my benefit. I am not easily deceived.” 

“Nor did I wish to deceive you. I only assumed it be- 
cause I did not know whom I might encounter here. I felt 
I must come to you at once. I knew you were expected 
home in the twelve o’clock train.” 

“What have you got to say ? ” he asked. 

“ Have you the leisure to listen ? ” 

“Yes. I took an early dinner, and have nothing but 
these letters to busy myself with, just now. I hope you 
will speak freely.” 

His tone was calm, slightly cool. He seemed very dif- 


THORNYCROFT GRANGE . 


35 


ferent from what he had been that night at Thornycroft 
Grange. “ Could it be that he was conquering his useless 
love for Maud? ” Magdalen asked herself, with a sudden 
fear. She resolved to test the matter. 

“I am not sure that you will care to listen,” she said, 
slowly. “ I came to tell you of Maud Ingestre.” 

11 What of her? ” he asked, rather hoarsely. 

‘ ‘ Have you not heard ! ’ ’ 

“ I have heard nothing since the night of the party.” 
He spoke eagerly now. “ You will remember that I was 
called away before it was through ; I left for New York 
early the next morning. I have seen nobody’but Jake and 
my housekeeper since returning home. Speak out. What 
has happened ? What have you come to tell me?” 

He clutched at her sleeve nervously, his keen eyes 
burning her face like coals. She drew slightly away from 
him. 

“I told you, that night at Thornycroft Grange, that I 
might help you to win Maud Ingestre for your wife,” she 
returned, with relentless calmness, il but matters had pro- 
gressed further than I was then aware. She is now be- 
trothed to Earl Devonshire ! ” 

He started forward with an oath, a sudden passion flam- 
ing into his face. For a moment he stood there, grinding 
his teeth impotently, but only for a moment. Then he 
sunk into the nearest chair, calm and unmoved once more 
outwardly. 

“ I suppose you have told me the truth, Magdalen, but 
this news is no sweeter to me than to yourself. I have a 
consolation there ; ” and he laughed sarcastically. “I don’t 
know that I need to be surprised in the least, moreover, as 
it is just what I have been expecting.” 

Magdalen eyed him silently, as he sat there with one 
hand supporting his handsome head. Somehow the sight 


THORNYCROFT GRANGE. 


36 

of his calmness maddened her. She had expected to see 
him rage and tear, and vent curses on the man who had 
supplanted him. 

“ Are you going to suffer things to go on in this way ? ” 
she asked, fiercely. “ Will you sit quietly by, and see the 
hope of your life frustrated ? ” 

He looked quietly into her face, and smiled. 

<* I am only following your advice of the other night, my 
dear Miss Duprez. I remember it if you, my mentor, do 
not. What was it you said about calm, collected men, and 
getting into a passion ? You see I am calm, collected, a 
perfect master of my own emotions. But let me whisper 
one word in your ear. Sooner than see Maud the bride of 
Earl Devonshire, I would wade through the heart’s blood 
of them both, and drain my own veins to swell the crimson 
flood.” 

He smiled again, but a light had crept into his eyes from 
which she shrunk back appalled. For the first time, she 
realized how terribly in earnest he was, how much he would 
sacrifice or dare to accomplish his fell purpose. From that 
moment she had no further fears for him. 

“ Something must be done, but I know not what,” she 
said, after a pause. “ If matters run on in this way much 
longer, I shall surely go mad. But I have been racking my 
brain in vain for any method that is likely to bring about a 
change. As a last resort, I have come to you.” 

He was silent for some moments, buried in deep thought. 
Finally he looked up at her. 

“You are very beautiful, Magdalen Duprez,” he said, 
slowly. “ I do not say it to flatter you, but merely men- 
tion it as a fact. You ought to be able to turn that beauty 
to account. It is strange you have never succeeded in mak- 
ing an impression upon Earl Devonshire. I am sure he is 
impressible enough.” 


THORNYCROFT GRANGE. 


37 

She faced him suddenly, her black eyes glowing with a 
dangerous fire. 

“You are treading on forbidden ground, Mr. Harding,” 
she said, excitedly. “ I have done with you as I have 
never done with mortal before, put off my mask in your 
presence, and suffered you to read me as I really am. It is 
because we need each other, and disguise is worse than 
folly between us. But there is one subject with which you 
must never meddle — Mr. Devonshire’s relations with my- 
self ! ” 

“ Suffer me to ask you a few questions, and then I will 
hold my peace. It is better that I should know more of 
you than I do, if I am to help you, as well as myself. Shall 
I go on ? ” 

“ Ask what you please, and I will use my own discretion 
about answering.” 

“ How long have you known Earl Devonshire? ” 

“For nearly three years. I made his acquaintance in 
New York. In fact, I suppose I might as well confess the 
whole truth,” a ranking bitterness in her tone. “ He 
picked me out of the street where 1 was wandering, desti- 
tute, and nearly starved — it does not matter what brought 
me to that condition. He cared for me with the tenderness 
of a brother, and found me work, so that I was able to sup- 
port myself, in part. A little more than a year since, he 
brought me here to Thornycroft Grange, and placed me 
with Mrs. Ingestre, whose acquaintance he had formed at 
Newport, the summer previous. My health seemed failing 
at the time, and I needed country air and quiet. It ended 
as you know. He paid my board at first, but finally Mrs. 
Ingestre took me in as a member of her own family, and 
refused to receive further remuneration. Earl had enlisted 
her sympathies for my deserted and orphan condition, and 


38 


THORNYCROFT GRANGE. 


his recommendation was sufficient. Now, you know the 
whole story.” 

“ And I hope eventually to take advantage of that knowl- 
edge,” he said, thoughtfully. “I am glad you have con- 
fided so much of your history to me, though I had sus- 
pected something of the kind before. It seems very strange, 
though. In a single year you have worked your way into 
the most select circles of Linden-Car society, and have be- 
come quite a reigning figure, despite your obscure origin.” 

“ Mrs. Ingestre’s patronage was the open sesame. Very 
many take me for the adopted daughter of the house, and 
of course I am careful that these shall continue to think so. 
No one outside the family knows my true history, and most 
people conclude I am a distant relative of Mr. Devonshire, 
since he has brought me here.” 

“ It is better that they should,” he said. “ It may help 
us in our plans. Now I must have time for reflection. In 
a day or two I will see you again, and acquaint you with 
the result of my cogitations. We must venture on some 
bold stroke, if we hope to succeed. Just now I do not see 
that we can do anything.” 

Magdalen arose, and drew her cloak about her with an 
impatient jerk. She could not endure this delay with her 
blood at such a fever heat. She was about to rejoin some- 
thing rather sharply when, the passage door suddenly 
opened, and Jake made his appearance, bearing a letter in 
his hand. She had just time to drop her veil before he was 
sufficiently advanced to catch sight of her face. 

‘ ‘ I beg ten tousand’ pardons, sartain sure, Massa Hardun ! ’ ’ 
he exclaimed, coming forward. “ Dis here bundle doo ar- 
rived for you yesterday, but I leaves it in my leetle den up 
de stairs, and never tinks on it again till dis very minute, 
dat am de fact ov de case, sartain sure ! ” 


THORNYCROFT GRANGE. 39 

Mr. Harding frowned slightly, but extended his hand for 
the letter, saying, rather impatiently : 

“Remember to keep my letters together another time, 
Jake. You may go.” 

The negro disappeared. The surgeon turned the envel- 
ope about, so that his eyes fell upon the superscription, 
Magdalen watching him closely. Suddenly he started to 
his feet with a gasping cry. A gray pallor settled slowly 
over his face, leaving it like the face of the dead. Even 
his. lips grew white. Magdalen went toward him with an 
exclamation of alarm. 

“What is the matter? are you ill, Mr. Harding? ” she 
asked. 

He quickly rallied, under her keen scrutiny. In a mo- 
ment or two he was more composed. 

“It is nothing, do not mind me,” he said, with the 
ghost of a smile. “I am used to it — this terrible pain in 
my side. It is soon over.” 

He put up his hand. Magdalen said nothing, but she 
was not so easily deceived. She knew that it was not physi- 
cal pain that distressed him so — it was the sight of that let- 
ter ! Standing near him, she tried to get a glimpse at it, 
but he crushed it rather rudely in his hand. She had only 
time to see that it was directed in a lady’s hand-writing. 

“ You will have to excuse me this morning, Miss Duprez,” 
speaking with apparent effort. “ I will see you again very 
soon. Then I hope we shall be able to arrange matters 
more to our satisfaction.” 

He bowed her out, courteously bidding her good-morn- 
ing, and then carefully locked and closed the' door behind 
her, as also the one leading through the back passage to the 
rooms where he lodged. 

Half an hour later he was bending over a furnace, stir- 
ring a few chemicals which were simmering in the alembic, 


40 


TH0RNYCR0FT GRANGE. 


a glass mask upon his face. His features needed to be cov- 
ered, for the expression upon them was villainous and 
wicked in the extreme. He might almost have sat for the 
head of one of the Gorgons ! 


CHAPTER V. 

THE STRANGE LADY. 

Linden -Car was a small and very quiet village, having 
few visitors with the exception of those who came to spend 
a brief season with one of the many wealthy families in the 
neighborhood. As a natural consequence, the two inns of 
which it boasted, never being overburdened with guests, 
were not the best of their kind, but simply good, comfort- 
able, wholesale houses, where one was sure of a hearty wel- 
come, a clean bed, and the best that the larder afforded. 

The Washington House was by far the more pretentious 
of the two. This was a large, square, wooden building, 
weather-beaten and stained by time, where the clapboards 
were always loose, and the shutters occasionally slamming. 
A great, lumbering sign-board, on which was daubed a rude 
caricature intended for Washington’s portrait, creaked 
dismally from the bough of an elm that grew in front, and 
furnished to the passer-by an evidence that entertainment 
was to be had there for both man and beast. 

Externally, the building was certainly lonesome and 
dreary-looking enough, but once inside the walls, and 
presto ! you found pleasant halls, clean, spacious rooms, a 
neatly-laid table, and, best of all, a cordial, motherly soul 
in Dame Alden, the good Boniface’s wife, who would be 
sure to make you feel easy and at home before you had been 
five minutes under her hospitable roof ! Indeed, it was 


THORNYCROFT GRANGE. 


4 * 


she, mainly, who kept up the fallen fortunes of the house, 
as her husband was an easy, thriftless soul, who would have 
let everything go to wreck and ruin but for her ceaseless 
efforts to keep both their heads “ above water.” 

But, to resume the thread of our story, we must go back 
to the afternoon of the Saturday preceding that Tuesday 
on which Magdalen had paid her visit to Mr. Harding at 
his office. It had been a busy day with Dame Alden — in- 
deed, Saturdays were always busy. The chambers had to 
be dusted and swept, whether any one lodged in them or 
not, and the halls must be cleaned, for “ that shiftless 
Joshua ” was never the neatest or the most careful of men, 
and sadly tried the poor dame’s patience, now and then, 
with the amount of dirt and litter which he left behind 
him. 

“ It seems that we must all have our crosses to bear in 
this wilderness o’ woe,” she was wont to say to Mrs. 
Deacon Jones, her particular crony, who lived just over the 
way. “ I reckon that shiftless Joshua was meant to be my 
cross ! There’s no getting along with him. He only cum- 
bers the airth, if I, his wife, who ought to love and honor him, 
do say it ! He jest trots about, makin’ me work, and doin’ 
nothing himself. He’s kind and good-natured enough, so 
far as that goes, but oh, so shiftless j You’ve no idea what 
I have to endure — no idea, Mrs. Jones.” 

And her trials had been fully as great as usual on this 
particular Saturday of which we write. But they were 
nearly over, for the house was swept and garnished from 
top to bottom, and Joshua had come shuffling in from the 
stables, and taken his usual seat in one corner of the front 
porch, to enjoy a quiet smoke there, with no further fear 
of being routed by duster or broom, when the five o’clock 
Harrisville coach came dashing up before the door, and 


42 THORNYCROFT GRANGE. 

left its single passenger, a lady, upon the steps of the 
hotel. 

Nearly all the strangers who found their way to this quiet 
village were gentlemen, and it was an exceedingly rare oc- 
currence for a lady to be soliciting the hospitality of the 
Washington House. Dame Alden was just tucking fresh 
sprigs of asparagus behind the narrow mirror in the front 
room, but she dropped everything where she was, with an 
exclamation of surprise, at the sight of her unexpected 
guest, and hastened out to meet her. 

“ Good-mornin’, madam! Will you walk in?” she 
asked, with a courtesy, as she appeared in the low door- 
way. 

The figure on the steps turned suddenly, and took a 
step or two forward, throwing back her veil as she did so, 
thus revealing a pale and rather sad, but very sweet face. 
The eyes were clear and expressive, the mouth tender and 
mobile, the features regular. She must once have been 
very beautiful, but now, though apparently not over twenty- 
five years of age, looked strangely wan, faded and old, 
as if she had seen much trouble. She was clad in mourn- 
ing, and Dame Alden, from this fact, and her sorrowful 
face, at once took her to be a widow ; therefore her motherly 
heart softened toward her immediately. 

“ Thank you,” the lady said, in a sweet voice, look- 
ing up with a wan smile, in answer to the good dame’s 
invitation to come in. “I wish to find some good, quiet 
hotel where I can remain undisturbed for a few days, per- 
haps longer.” 

“ Come in, madam, come in,” repeated Dame Alden, 
with much cordiality. “ You won’t find a better place 
than this, in all Linden-Car, if I do say it ! And as for 
bein quiet, there ain’t so much as a mouse stirrin’ about 
the old shell, except me and my shiftless Joshua, who sits 


THORNYCROFT GRANGE. 


43 


smokin’ his dirty pipe yonder, Susan, my maid, and the 
stable-boy. Why, you won’t know there’s a living soul 
about the place but yourself ! ’ ’ 

The lady smiled. 

“ -I think your house will suit,” she said, quietly. “Will 
you please show me a room — a front room on the second 
floor, if you have it to spare ? ” 

“ Lawks, madam, you can take your choice out of all 
the rooms in the house, if I has to give up my own to ac- 
commodate you.” 

“ I shall be satisfied with any comfortable room, pro- 
vided that it overlooks the street. This small trunk is all 
the luggage that I have. You will please have it brought 
up, as soon as I have settled on my quarters.” 

Dame Alden led the way through the tidy hall, and up 
one flight of stairs, throwing open the door of her best 
guest-chamber, with a look of pardonable pride and com- 
placency upon her face. 

“Do you think you could be satisfied with this ’ere, 
madam? ” she.asked, with a look that said plainly, “ You 
don’t know what’s what, if you are not ! ” 

It was a spacious chamber, separated from the hall by 
a narrow ante-room. It looked really elegant, from the 
scrupulous neatness that pervaded everything. The floor 
was covered with cool matting, the windows draped with 
muslin, and the bed, which stood in one corner, at the 
right of the door, seemed like a great bank of snow, so 
white and clean did it appear. 

“Perfectly!” exclaimed the lady, a glow of pleasure 
breaking over her face. “It is the pleasantest and most 
home-like place I have seen for a long time. And,” step- 
ping forward, “the view from the window is just what I 
desire, also.” 

“ I am glad you like it — very glad, Mrs. ” 


44 


THORNYCROFT GRANGE. 


The landlady paused, with a significant look. A slight 
flush crept into the guest’s face, but was gone in an in- 
stant. 

“ My name is Grant— Mrs. Grant,” she said, quietly. 

“ Do tell ? Why, there are Grants livin’ on the hill yon- 
der, just beyond Thornycroft Grange— Charles Grant, and 
his brother, Gideon. Are they any relation of yourn, if I 
may make bold to ask ? ’ ’ 

“ Not the slightest. I have no relatives by my name in 
the country, that I am aware. ’ ’ 

“ Do tell. Then you are an utter stranger to the folks 
here at Linden-Car. I didn’t know but what you had 
come expectin’ to meet some old friends here.” 

“ This is my first visit to your village,” was the brief re- 
ply. 

“ Lawks ! Then you don’t know anybody ? Well, they 
are folks as is easy to git acquainted with, for the most 
part, supposin’ you should stay here long. Now there’s 
Mrs. Deacon Jones, jist over the way. She has got to run- 
nin’ in here just as if it were her own house. You’ll know 
her before you’ve been here two days.” 

Mrs. Grant laid aside her bonnet and shawl, and seated 
herself by the window, looking out rather wearily. Her 
face seemed paler and sadder than ever, in the full light 
that fell upon it. 

“ What house is that yonder — that large, gray house upon 
the hill?” she asked, turning suddenly. 

“ That ere is Thornycroft Grange, one of the handsomest 
places in the whole town. There has been a mint of money 
spent on it to make it look pretty and nice. But then, 
Mrs. Ingestre is as rich as a queen, and she can afford it. 
Why, she gives away every month of her life, more than 
all Joshua and I are worth, I do believe ! But lawful 
sakes ! you look tuckered e’ena’most to death, and must 


THORNYCROFT GRANGE . 


45 


want your tea, and I’m standing here gossipin’ ! I’ll have 
it sent up directly, Mrs. Grant, or it may be, if Susan is 
busy, I’ll bring it myself.” 

“Do, I shall be glad to have you,” returned Mrs. Grant, 
who seemed to encourage her hostess’ predilection for gos- 
siping. “ I expect to be lonely at first, and you will be 
company for me.” 

Dame Alden hurried below, with a gratified smile break- 
ing over her motherly face. 

“ The most civil-spoken lady I’ve met with this many a 
day,” she said to Susan, while toasting some bread for tea. 
“ Not a bit proud or stuckup, though I know she’s a regu- 
lar born lady, jest like Mrs. Ingestre and Miss Maud. But 
then, she is so poor and peaked, and so sad lookin’ ! We 
must do all we can, Susan, to cheer her up.” 

When she carried up the tea and bread, Mrs. Grant was 
still sitting by the window, just as she had left her, so she 
wheeled a stand up beside her, and placed the tray upon 
it. 

“There, my dear lady, it will be a heap pleasanter sit- 
ting here to sip your tea. You can watch the sunlight, if 
you choose, as it dies from them hills up yonder, and stays 
to take a last peep at Thornycroft Grange. It’s a nice 
place, Linden- Car is, and I’m sure you’ll learn to like it.” 

“ I presume I may. It does seem very pleasant, and 
there must be some delightful scenery in the neighbor- 
hood.” 

Dame Alden gossiped on garrulously enough, and Mrs. 
Grant seemed inclined to extract from, her all the informa- 
tion she could, relative to the village and its inhabitants. 
Finally she pushed her chair back from the stand, having 
finished her tea, and again gave her undivided attention to 
the prospect without. 

“ Who is building that new house at the right of Thorny- 


46 


THORNYCROFT GRANGE. 


croft Grange, on the eminence in the distance?” she fin- 
ally asked. “It looks now as if it might be intended for 
a very elegant residence. ’ ’ 

“Oh, yes, madam. It will be ahead of the Grange it- 
self, folks say, though I haven’t found time to go up and 
see it, as yet. It’s a stranger that’s buildin’ that — a friend 
of the Ingestres. He had not been. here long. Perhaps 
you may have heard of him, Earl Devonshire? ” 

Mrs. Grant had sat there listening quietly enough, but at 
the mention of that name, she started suddenly to her feet 
with the shrill cry, “ Just Heaven ! is it possible? ” Her 
wan face grew whiter, until it looked like a corpse, her lids 
drooped, the light died slowly from her eyes, and with a 
low moan, she tottered, and fell forward into Dame Alden’s 
arms, insensible. 


CHAPTER VI. 

THE LETTER. 

The good innkeeper’s wife, of course, was surprised and 
a little frightened, at the unexpected occurrence. But she 
was one who seldom lost her presence of mind, or allowed 
herself to be much flustered. Therefore, while calling 
loudly for Susan, she now supported the woman’s inanimate 
form on one stout arm, and began to loosen her dress with 
the hand that was disengaged. Her curiosity she could re- 
press till another occasion, and did not now suffer it to em- 
barrass her efforts in the least. 

Susan came running up-stairs, panting and open-eyed \ 
but she, like her mistress, saw that it was no time for ask- 
ing questions, so she helped carry the insensible woman to 
the couch, and then darted below again, in search of re- 


THORNYCROFT GRANGE. 


47 


storatives. Mrs. Grant soon began to show symptoms of 
returning consciousness. A few gasping sighs escaped her 
lips, and after a little, she slowly unclosed her eyes. 

“ It’s curous, I must say,” muttered Dame Alden, under 
her breath, relaxing from the vigorous rubbing she had 
been giving the sufferer’s hands and arms. “ I only so 
much as said Earl Devonshire’s name, and she just gave a 
screech, and went off as if she’d been shot ! Where on 
airth has she ever known him, I wonder? ” 

“ Was that what made her faint, missus? ” asked Susan, 
in some surprise. 

“ I reckon it must have been ; but it’s curous, very cur- 
ous. I don’t know what Joshua would say to it. I do 
hope that woman is what she ought to be.” 

She bent over her once more, suppressing a sigh, and 
shaking her head a little dubiously. Mrs. Grant soon ral- 
lied, and raising herself slightly on one elbow, looked 
about her. 

“ Where am I ? ” she asked, feebly. 

“ Don’t you remember? This am the Washington House, 
and you came here in the four-o’clock stage.” 

“ Yes, yes.” And the woman covered her face with her 
hands, and sank back upon the pillow once more, moaning 
audibly. 

She lay thus for a long time, without speaking, Dame 
Alden and Susan still hovering around, anxious to do some- 
thing to render her more comfortable. Finally she looked 
up again. 

“ I will not keep you here,” she said. “ I shall do very 
well alone, now. I am only a little weak, and I may pos- 
sibly be able to take a short nap, if left wholly to myself. 
I am really grateful to you for your kind care thus far.” 

She pressed the landlady’s hand, and then signed for 
them both to go out. They did so ; and Dame Alden im- 


4 $ THORNYCROFT GRANGE . 


mediately sought her husband, in his retreat on the front 
porch, and recounted to him the whole circumstance. 

“ I don,t know anything about the lady, I’m sure,” she 
said, in conclusion; “but she has the sweetest, prettiest 
face I’ve looked on this many a day, only so sorrowful and 
sad-like. I feel just like crying every time I look at her. 
Poor thing ! if she ain’t just what she ought to be, I’m 
sure she’s been more sinned against than sinnin’, and I 
mean to do the best I can by her. Now what do you 
think, Joshua?” 

“Don’t bother, wife. I guess the gal is well enough,” 
returned the spouse, puffing lazily at his pipe. 

“She might be the witch ofEndor, for all you’d care ! 
But then I know she aint. I’ll trust her sweet, innocent 
face, for that couldn’t lie to me, only I do wonder how 
she came to know Earl Devonshire ! ” 

“Gammon ! There’s nothin’ so very strange about that, 
as I knows on. You women folks are greatest for conjurin’ 
up a mystery ! What if she does know Earl Devonshire, 
and half the men in town, for that matter? She needn’t 
be any the worse for it, as I can see.” 

Dame Alden was silenced, and no wonder; for this was 
an uncommonly long speech for “ Shiftless Joshua ” to 
make, as he was usually as chary of his word as of his 
deeds. His better half concluded to let the matter drop, 
since he seemed inclined to take up the gauntlet in de- 
ence o her guest, though her womanly curiosity was by 
no means appeased. 


The next day was Sunday. Dame Alden waited until 
after nine o’clock without having seen or heard from Mrs 
Grant, and then fearing that she might be worse, con- 
cluded to visit her in her room. She found her still in 
bed, looking waner and thinner than the day before, if 
possible, but with a slight flush upon her face. 


THORNYCROFT GRANGE. 


49 


“You perceive that I have not risen yet,” her lodger 
said, with a faint smile. “ I find I am still very weak, and 
the exertion seems very much for me.” 

“I’m afraid you’re really ill, madam,” said the good 
dame, compassionately. “ You are sartinly lookin’ flushed 
and feverish. I’ll have one of the doctors called in, if you 
say so.” 

“Oh, no! I do not think I stand in need of medical 
advice. I shall be up again and well as ever, in a few 
days. 5 ’ 

Dame Alden shook her head a little doubtfully, for she 
was sure she saw indications of incipient fever in the 
flushed face and bounding pulse of her guest ; but Mrs. Grant 
was firm in refusing to allow a physician to be summoned. 
Therefore she could only prescribe the best remedies she 
had at hand, and let it go at that, for the time being. 

She sat with her guest nearly all day. Mrs. Grant 
seemed glad to have her with her, and encouraged her 
to talk as freely as she pleased, and listened with strange 
avidity to any gossip concerning the good people of Lin- 
den-Car. One would almost have thought, from the 
manner, that the villagers were old friends from whom she 
had been long separated. 

“You mentioned a Mr. Devonshire, last night,” she 
said, finally, her face turned toward the wall. “I believe 
you said he had not been here long? ” 

“Only a year or two, off and on. Do you know 
him?” 

“ I have heard of him.” 

The landlady pricked up her ears. She could not 
see the woman’s face, but she noticed there was a sort of 
tremor in her voice. She waited a moment for Mrs. Grant 
to say more ; but as she did not, she herself said : 

“ I believe he’s a good man, is Mr. Devonshire. Every- 

4 


So 


THORNYCROFT GRANGE. 


body speaks well of him. I heard yesterday morning 
that he was about to marry Maud Ingestre, of Thorny- 
croft Grange. I hope it’s true, I’m sure for they’d make 
a splendid couple, as I was tellin’ my Joshua, last evenin’.” 

“Is this Miss Ingestre good and beautiful ? ” 

“ She’s sweet and fair as a June rose, madam. We all 
think a heap of Miss Maud. She has a good many beaux, 
too, and might take her pick from any of them. Leon- 
ard Harding was dead set after her, one while, and I 
wasn’t sure but he’d get her. 

“Who?” 

Was it Dame Alden’s imagination, or had there indeed 
come a sudden sharpness into Mrs. Grant’s voice as she 
asked this question ? 

“ Leonard Harding, the surgeon, who lives in that odd- 
looking brown house at the end of the street. You may 
have noticed it as you came along. There is a sign over 
his office door. 

“ I do not remember seeing it.” 

“Well, as I was sayin’, he was fast enough after Miss 
Maud, for one while ; and would be still, if there was a 
ghost of a chance left, no doubt. But now they say Earl 
Devonshire has really come in ahead, and it is a settled 
thing between him and Miss Maud. For one, I’m heartily 
glad of it.” 

“ Is not Mr. Harding a good man ? ” 

“ I know no special harm of him, as to that, and I don’t 
like to speak ill of my neighbors, unless I’ve a good rea- 
son for doin’ it ; but I will say that for Miss Maud’s future 
happiness, I would a thousand times sooner see her married 
to Mr. Devonshire.” 

Mrs. Grant made no reply to this, but after a little, 
turned her face toward the light once more. Dame Al- 
den thought she saw the glitter of tears in her eyes j 


THORNYCROFT GRANGE. 


51 


but she closed them so soon it was impossible for her to 
be sure. She lay very still after this, seeming inclined to 
sleep ; and so the worthy landlady very shortly left her to 
herself. 

The next morning she was worse instead of better. Her 
fever was higher, and she complained of a pain in her head. 
Dame Alden began to feel seriously alarmed, and to wish 
she had acted in accordance with her own judgement, and 
sent for a physician the day before. 

“ You must have a doctor called in now, sartain sure, or 
we shall have you droppin’ away on our hands. I’m 
afraid,” she said, “ you’ll only grow worse and worse un- 
less something is done for you.” 

“I believe you are right,” returned the sick woman, 
Wearily. “ A physician will know better what to pre- 
scribe for me. Whom would you advise me to send 
for?” 

“ There is Doctor Rynd and Doctor Andrews. Either 
of ’em is good enough — in fact, I am not sure that there 
would be much choice between them. Then there’s Mr. 
Harding; some folks call him in, when there ain’t much 
ailin’ them.” 

“ Indeed ! ” The woman’s voice was expressive of real 
surprise. “ I thought he was a surgeon.” 

“And so he is; but then, he seems to understand 
physic, and a good many sich things. He’s a great chem- 
istry, too, they say, though the Lord knows what that is, 
for I don’t. He’s a man that knows a heap — more than 
the parson, even ! But then you don’t want him. You 
ought to have either Doctor Andrews or Doctor Rynd.” 

Mrs. Grant was silent for some moments, as if revolv- 
ing a serious question in her own mind. Finally she 
looked up resolutely. 

“I have decided to have Mr. Harding,” she said. “I 


52 


THORNYCROFT GRANGE. 


am not seriously ill, and he can prescribe for me as well as 
another could. Please bring me writing materials, and 
draw the stand to my bedside. I will drop him a note.” 

The landlady lifted both hands in surprise. 

“Lawks, madam, don’t think of such a thing ! ” she 
urged. “Now if you’d allow me to suggest, I should 
say send for Doctor Andrews, by all means. He’s a real 
clever man, and knows his business, too. We had him 
when Joshua was took down with the rheumatiz, and he 
saved him in no time. Mr. Harding is all well enough, but 
not jest the person in a case like this.” 

“Permit me to be the judge. I know I should not like 
Doctor Andrews, therefore I’m determined to have Mr. 
Harding. If you will please furnish me with writing ma- 
terials, I will prepare a note directly.'” 

The landlady saw there was no appeal from this decision, 
and so hastened to comply with her request, muttering as 
she went that there “was no use in talkin’ where a person 
was bound to be obstinate ! ” 

It was nearly an hour afterward, when Mrs. Grant’s bell 
rang for the note to be taken away. Dame Alden won- 
dered what she could have been doing all this time ; for 
she had herself been busy about the house, and her guest 
was consequently left entirely alone. Half a dozen words 
would have been sufficient for the note, and here it had 
taken her a whole hour to write them ! ” 

Dame Alden herself took it down to the stable boy. In 
descending the stairs, she carelessly turned it over, glancing 
at the superscription. It was backed in a neat, lady-like 
hand, and addressed to “ Mr. Leonard G. Harding, Lin- 
den-Car.” 

“I wonder how Mrs. Grant knew his middle letter is G ? 
I am sure I never said anything to her about it,” she 
thought, in a momentary surprise. “ Oh, it must be she’s 


THORNYCROFT GRANGE, 


53 

run across one of his cards in her room. There’s plenty of 
’em lying round the house, I’ve no doubt.” 

The stable boy was sent on his errand, but very soon re- 
turned, and alone. “ Mr. Harding had gone to New 
York,” he said, “ and would not be back until noon of the 
next day.” 

The landlady took the message up to Mrs. Grant. It 
seemed to discompose her very much. For several mo- 
ments after having heard it, she kept her face hidden in 
the pillow. 

“What have you done with the letter?” she finally 
asked, with considerable eagerness. 

“Sam left it at Mr. Harding’s office. He’ll be sure to 
open it, the first thing after he comes home to-morrow. 
Then I reckon he’ll come right over here.” 

This assurance seemed to quiet Mrs. Grant, for she said 
no more. However, she still persisted in refusing to have 
Dr. Andrews called in, declaring that she would wait for 
Mr. Harding’s return. So it was through the entire day ; 
but the next morning, Tuesday, she seemed to have thought 
better of it, for she made no objection to having Dr. An- 
drews summoned for the time being, only stipulating that 
Mr. Harding was to take his place when he should re- 
turn. 

Dr. Andrews came about ten o’clock. After thoroughly 
testing the patient’s symptoms, he declared that there was 
no danger to be apprehended, as it seemed a case of fever 
and nervousness combined, and said she only required rest 
and quiet, with just medicine enough to right her system, 
which was sadly out of tune. He gave her some soothing 
powders, and shortly left, promising to send her in some- 
thing more during the afternoon. 


54 


THORNYCROFT GRANGE. 


CHAPTER VII. 

THE BOTTLE OF CORDIAL. 

On that same eventual Tuesday afternoon when Magda- 
len Duprez had visited Mr. Harding at his office, and while 
the sick woman at the Washington House was yet waiting 
impatiently for the coming of the surgeon, whom she still 
seemed determined should attend her, Earl Devonshire had 
gone up to Thornycroft Grange, finding the family just at 
the dessert, and not yet risen from the dinner-table. Of 
course they insisted that he should join them, and Aunt 
Barbara rang for another plate. 

“You ought to have come a little sooner,” she said, with 
a wry, comical sort of a smile. “It is so very awkward to 
dine without a gentleman to wait upon one.” 

Mrs. Ingestre laughed. 

“ One would think you were used to such attentions, to 
to hear you talk, Barbara, and that it was the exception, 
and not the rule, for us to dine as we have done to-day.” 

Miss Dean raised her hand with a playful gesture of dep- 
recation. 

“ Esther, it is really cruel of you to remind Mr. Devon- 
shire of my desolate condition by pretending that I am not 
used to the attentions of the other sex. What if I’m not ? 
It’s all Maud’s fault,” slyly pinching the girl’s cheek, “ for 
she has no business to look so provokingly lovely, and thus 
charm all the beaux away from me.” 

Maud blushed vividly, for she felt that Earl’s eyes were 
on her face. But he took pity on her confusion, and has- 
tened to relieve her. 


THORNYCROFT GRANGE. 


55 


“ Don’t say another word, Miss Dean, for the envy or 
jealousy that prompts your remarks is a little too palpable,” 
he said, in laughing retort to the old maid’s remark. And 
then, turning to Maud : 

“I have brought over Tennyson’s ‘Princess’ for you 
to read. You know I forgot it when I came in last even- 
ing.” 

He sat chatting with them all a few minutes, and then 
suddenly seemed to miss Magdalen, as he inquired for 
her. 

“ She is not well, and did not wish to come down,” 
Mrs. Ingestre answered. “I should have gone up to her, 
but she always prefers being left alone when feeling slightly 
indisposed.” 

He did not remain long — going away in less than half an 
hour. “ He might like to run in during the course of the 
evening,” he said, laughingly, as he arose to depart, “and 
should not feel so entirely at liberty to do so if he remained 
longer now.” 

He occupied rooms at Colonel Floyd’s at the right of 
the village; but having nothing in particular with which to 
busy himself just then, he went slowly down the road to- 
ward the village, instead of taking a shorter cut across the 
fields. In passing through the street, he ran into Dr. An- 
drew’s office, with whom he was on terms of intimacy. He 
found the doctor within, as was also Mr. Reed, a young 
man who was studying medicine with Dr. Andrews. 

“Whom are you preparing to kill or cure now, my 
friend ? ” Earl cried gayly, catching up a bottle from 
among several packages of drugs that were lying open on 
.the table. 

“Don’t deal in insinuations, my dear Devonshire,” the 
doctor returned, shaking his head smilingly, while pouring 
some dark liquid or other into a glass retort. But, seriously, 


56 THORNYCROFT GRANGE. 

the bottle of medicine which you have in your hand is in- 
tended for a lady a Mrs. Grant, who is sick at the Wash- 
ington House.” 

“ Indeed ! I had heard of no case of sickness there,” 
returned Earl, carelessly, drawing a chair up to the table, 
and still retaining the bottle in his hand. 

“Very likely. It is nothing alarming — mere nervous- 
ness, with some inward fever. She will be up in a few 
days, no doubt. I pity her, though, as she seems to be en- 
tirely alone.” 

“ Has she no friends in the village?” 

“I think not, from what I heard the landlady say. But 
Dame Alden is a good nurse herself, and will giVe her the 
best of care. But she seems to stand most in need of rest 
and quiet. She looks to me like some one who has seen 
trouble, and I believe it is even now preying upon her 
mind. She will never be quite well until she is free from 
that.” 

“You really interest me. Some one ought to take it 
especially upon himself to see that she is provided with 
everything she needs, since she is a stranger to all.” 

Earl still sat toying idly with the bottle, absently stop- 
ping and unstopping it, as he talked. 

“ So there had. I understand she has called in Mr. 
Harding, if he does not supply her wants, I shall surely 
consider myself bound to do so. He will be in this after- 
noon, I expect ; but I shall send that cordial over, never- 
theless. Take care, Devonshire ; there is some strychnia 
on the table, and you might brush a grain or two into some 
of the drugs.” 

Earl put down the bottle, and moved further away from 
the table. After a little, he arose, and said he must be go- 
ing. 

“ And you had better take the cordial up to Mrs. Grant 


THORNYCROFT GRANGE. 


57 


now,” the doctor said, addressing his assistant, Mr. Read. 
“You can walk along with Mr. Devonshire, as your roads 
lie in the same direction. He will go past the Washington 
House, I suppose.” 

Earl bowed, and he and Mr. Read set out together. The 
latter left the medicine with Dame Alden, and immedi- 
ately returned to the office, while the former kept on to 
Col. Floyd’s. . 

Dame Alden herself took the medicine up to Mrs. 
Grant’s room, but did not administer any, as the patient 
seemed to have dropped into a quiet slumber, from which 
she did not think it best to arouse her. Therefore she 
left the cordial on the bureau in the ante-room, and re- 
turned below, to look after her housework, which was 
sadly running behind-hand, with this sick lady to care for. 

About an hour afterward, Mr. Harding came in, look- 
ing somewhat flurried and excited, as if he was in a great 
hurry. 

“ I understand you have a sick lady here, Dame Alden,” 
he said, a trifle out of breath. “She sent for me, but I 
did not return from New York until twelve, and found fully 
a score of letters waiting for me. Moreover, hers was by 
no means the first one I opened, or I might have been here 
sooner.” 

“It is all well enough, I reckon,” returned the landlady, 
not over-cordially. “ Doctor Andrews was here this morn- 
ing, and he’s just sent in some fresh medicine that I left on 
the bureau in the ante-room. Mrs. Grant was asleep when 
it was brought, and I didn’t think it was best to wake 
her.” 

“You were right, my good woman. Sleep is better than 
drugs any day. 

“That’s so, only I didn’t s’pose a doctor would own it 
nor a surgeon either, for that matter. But you can run 


58 


THORNYCROFT GRANGE. 


right up-stairs. My hands are in this bread, but I’ll come 
up directly. Mrs. Grant is in my front chamber — the one 
at the left. You know where it is.” 

Mr. Harding nodded, and hastened across the hall, and 
a moment afterward she heard his footsteps ascending the 
stairs. He was absent but a few moments, and then came 
hurrying down again, before her bread was nearly ready 
for the oven. 

“The lady is not awake yet,” he said, quickly. “I 
will hurry on to Widow Grey’s, and call again in the 
evening. The widow’s son Tom has hurt his foot, I un- 
derstand.” 

He started out, but turned again, with his hand upon the 
door. 

“By the way, Dame Alden, what did you tell me was 
the lady’s name? ” 

“ Mrs. Grant. Didn’t she sign it to the note she writ 
you?” 

“Oh, to be sure; and I believe you’ve mentioned it 
once or twice since I came in ; but then, I never could re- 
member names. However, Mrs. Grant seems to be doing 
very well, and can be left until evening without any risk. 
Take good care of her, Dame Alden.” 

He smiled graciously, and bowed himself out as defer- 
entially as though she were some queen to whom he owed 
allegiance. She watched his departure with a countenance 
expressive of distrust and resentment. 

“ He needn’t try to come the perlite over an old woman 
like me,” she muttered. “ I’ve seen too many rogues, in 
my day, to be deceived by chaff ! ” 


THORNYCROFT GRANGE. 


59 


CHAPTER VIII. 

A SUDDEN DEATH. 

It was nearly half an hour after the departure of Leon- 
ard Harding, and the good landlady of the Washing- 
ton House had got her bread nicely in the oven, and the 
tea on to steep for her Joshua’s early supper, before Mrs. 
Grant’s bell was rung. She only stopped to wipe her 
hands and throw off her big apron, before hastening to her. 
She found her wide awake, and lying wearily back upon 
her pillow. 

“So you’ve waked up at last, madam,” she said, in a 
pleasant, cheery voice, as she approached the bedside. 
“ Well, I must say you’ve had a wonderfully long nap ; 
but you’re lookin’ better for it.” 

“ And I am beginning to feel a little more like myself,” 
returned Mrs. Grant. “ I might be up again were it not 
for this weakness.” 

She lay some moments in silence, looking up at the land- 
lady rather wistfully. Finally she said : 

‘ ‘ I wonder if Mr. Harding has returned from New York 
yet ? It is strange he does not come over.” 

“ He was here, madam, not more than half an hour ago. 
He went over to the Widow Grey’s from here, but said as 
how he should come in again this evening.” 

“ Then he did call while I was asleep? ” she asked, eag- 
erly, a soft color stealing into her cheeks. “ What did he 
say ? Why didn’t you wake me?” 

“ He didn’t say anything much. I was mixin’my bread, 
and he jest ran up and seed you were asleep, and came 


6o 


THORNYCROFT GRANGE. 


right down again. He seemed to be in a mighty hurry, 
and went right away then, without tellin’ me a word what 
to do for you. But who cares? Doctor Andrews is worth 
a dozen on him, as I have always told you.” 

“ Perhaps he is,” speaking very wearily; “ but I have 
got it into my head that Mr. Harding can help me the most 
of anybody. You must not think me obstinate for persist- 
ing in this idea. I really wish I had been awake when he 
came.” 

She lay quite still, her eyes drooping. Finally she 
turned. 

“ I am thirsty,” she said, “ I wish you would give me 
something to drink.” 

Dame Alden hurried below for a glass of toast and water. 
Coming back, she paused in the ante-room, and poured a 
little of the cordial which Dr. Andrews had prepared into 
an empty wine-glass that stood upon the bureau. With 
this in one hand, and the toast and water in the other, she 
hurried to the bedside. 

“ Drink the cordial first, madame,” she said, offering it. 
“It’s something that Doctor Andrews sent over this after- 
noon. It will be sure to do you good, I'm sartin of that, 
if Mr. Harding didn’t leave it.” 

Mrs. Grant smiled feebly, but took the medicine and 
drank it down. 

“ It is bitter as wormwood,” she said, returning the glass 
with a wry face. 

“Medicine ain’t apt to be over-sweet, I reckon. But 
this toast-water will take the taste out of your mouth.” 

Mrs. Grant took a swallow or two, and then settled back 
upon her pillow, while Dame Alden set the glasses back 
upon the bureau, and began to tidy up the room a little. 
She had been too busy to find the time for this earlier in the 
day, though she had taken care that it should be kept in a 


THORNYCROFT GRANGE. 


6 1 


condition that would render it comfortable and cheerful for 
the sick woman. 

She was dusting the old picture of Martha Washington 
that hung over the mantel, when she was suddenly startled 
by a cry, coming from the bed. She sprang to it, and 
found Mrs. Grant lying there, livid and gasping, and toss- 
ing her arms wildly about as if in intense agony. 

“O, O!” the woman screamed, “it is awful — the 
jpain ! I believe I am dying ! Send for Mr. Harding ! ” 

Dame Alden rang the bell long and loudly. In a mo- 
ment Susan came hurrying up from the kitchen, looking 
pale and frightened, and wondering what was the matter. 

“ Run for Mr. Harding as quick as you can go ! ” cried 
her mistress, hurriedly. “Mrs. Grant is worse. Stop at 
Doctor Andrews’s as you go along, and tell him to come 
right over.” 

The girl darted away, trembling all over with excitement. 
She had caught a glimpse of the sick woman’s ghastly 
face, and the sight by no means tended to reassure her. 
But the extreme urgency of the case seemed to give her 
strength. 

Dame Alden was cooler and calmer, though she shivered 
and grew pale as she listened to her patient’s shrill screams 
of agony, and wondered what had happened to cause this 
sudden change in her. She tried to do something to relieve 
her distress, but felt herself perfectly at a loss. She had 
nursed a great many sick people, in her day, but never one 
who had exhibited such symptoms as these, and she did not 
know what to make of them. Every moan of the sufferer 
was like a blow to her tender, motherly heart, since she was 
utterly powerless. 

Her husband soon came in, and Mrs. Jones with him. 
He had heard the woman’s screams from his seat on the 
porch, and had also learned something of the cause from 


62 


THORNYCROFT GRAJVOE. 


Susan, who had paused a moment, in passing him. The 
first idea that entered his mind was to bring Mrs. Jones over 
to the assistance of his wife, and this was the idea he had 
acted upon. 

“ O, Joshua,” cried his wife, catching at his sleeve, as 
he entered the front chamber where the sick woman was 
writhing in her agony, “ O, Joshua, what shall we do? I 
never, in all my life, seed a cretur in such torment ! Run 
for Doctor Andrews and Doctor Rynd, now do ! Susan , 
has gone, but there’s no tellin’ how much trouble she’ll 
have in finding them.” 

The landlord did not wait to hear more, but darted down- 
stairs and into the street, setting out at a brisk trot for the 
offices. It had never occurred to him until suggested by 
his wife, that he might be of assistance in bringing medical 
aid. He was never very quick-witted in an emergency ; 
but now, when once put upon the right track, he made his 
heels fly with unusual rapidity, as he sped down the street. 
He was ready to do what he could for the poor woman ly- 
ing so ill. 

Doctor Andrews was away when he reached his office, so 
he kept on to that of Doctor Rynd, which was situated 
farther down the street. As ill luck would have it, he was 
out, also ; however, the landlord left word for him to come 
directly to the inn on his return, and then began to retrace 
his steps more slowly, feeling that he had done a very mag- 
nanimous act in running himself out of breath in this way, 
when, as everybody in the village knew, it did not agree 
with him at all to hurry. 

When he came opposite Doctor Andrews’s, on his return, 
he went puffing and blowing into the office. There was 
only a boy present, who said that Susan had already left a 
message, before the landlord came in the first time, and had 
gone on from there to find Mr. Harding. Moreover, neither 


THORNYCROFT GRANGE. 63 

the doctor nor Mr. Read had been in since, but he was ex- 
pecting them every moment. 

From that, he began to question him as to the trouble, 
and the extent of the danger that threatened the sick wo- 
man. However, Joshua would not stay to answer many 
questions, when, much to his delight, he saw Doctor An- 
drews driving up in his gig. He darted toward him, hold- 
ing up his hand. 

“ Quick, quick !” he exclaimed, almost inarticulately. 
“ Drive to my house — to Washington House — that strange 
woman is — is — dying ! ” 

Doctor Andrews at once comprehended the meaning, and 
was off like a flash. When he reached the inn, the sick 
room was full of confusion, and several of the neighboring 
women were crowding in and out. They had got an ink- 
ling that something dreadful was happening at the Wash- 
ington House, and thought they must be on the spot to see 
what it could be. Mrs. Jones’s children had spread the 
alarm. 

The doctor pushed through the crowd a little impatiently. 
When he reached the bedside, a single glance was sufficient 
to convince him that he had come too late. Mrs. Grant 
was just breathing her last. Only a moment before, she 
had drawn Dame Alden toward her, whispering : 

“Tell him — my husband — that I — I — forgive him.” 

These words were her last. After uttering them she had 
sunk back upon her pillow, gasping hoarsely. It was just 
then that the doctor had entered. He could do noth- 
ing to save her — she was nearly gone, and in less than 
fifteen minutes, all was over. 

The confusion was worse than ever, when it was found 
that the woman was really dead. Those who had come 
in began to crowd about to catch a glimpse of her white, 
cold face, and all manner of questions were being asked 


6 4 


THORNYCROFT GRANGE. 


concerning her history, and the cause of her death. But 
Doctor Andrews very soon restored quiet, and cleared 
the room of all except Dame Alden and Mrs. Jones. 
Then he turned to the former, a stern gravity settling 
over his features, and hard lines forming about his mouth. 

“ Who took care of the woman who has just died ? ” he 
asked, almost severely. “ Have you trusted the charge of 
her to any one else ?” 

“Not a soul,” returned the landlady with a sob. “ Not 
even Susan has been near her. We didn’t think she was so 
very sick, sir, and we left her alone a great deal. But when 
anybody did go up to sit with the poor cretur, or give her 
medicine, it was always myself. ’ ’ 

“Do you think any one has been into the room to-day 
when you were not present ? ’ ’ 

“ Only Mr. Harding, sir. She would have Mr. Harding 
sent for, you know, and so he came over, about an hour 
before she was taken so bad. But he could only have 
run into the room and right out again. She was sleepin* 
so nicely he didn’t think it best to wake her up; so he 
went straight over to Widow Grey’s, to see her boy Tom, 
and said as how he’d come back again this evenin’. O 
sir, wasn’t it awful to see the poor cretur takin’ on so, 
and wringin’ her hands ? I wish you could have come 
sooner ! ” 

“I hardly think it would have been of any use, ” re- 
turned the doctor, very soberly. 


THORNYCROFT GRANGE. 


65 


CHAPTER IX. 

THE MYSTERY DEEPENS. 

At this moment, Mr. Harding and Doctor Rynd made 
their appearance. Susan had performed her duty faith- 
fully, and not finding Doctor Andrews at his office, had 
hurried after Mr. Harding. He had already left the 
Widow Grey’s when she arrived there ; but she had has- 
tened on, and overtaken him, making him acquainted with 
Mrs. Grant’s danger in a very few words. They had then 
set out together for the inn. 

As for Doctor Rynd, he had come in from a visit to a 
patient, and found the message which Joshua Alden had 
left at his office. It seemed very urgent and he had has- 
tened at once to comply with it, and had met Mr. Hard- 
ing at the door of the Washington House, bent on the 
same errand as himself. Thus it had happened that they 
had made their appearance at the same moment. 

The women who still clustered in the hall told them the 
sad news, as they passed, but they kept on to the chamber 
of death. Doctor Andrews received them with grave 
courtesy, holding out his hand to each, as they entered 
the room. 

“ We have come too late,” said Mr. Harding. “Iam 
very sorry that it should have happened so.” 

“Yes, it is to be regretted,” returned Doctor Andrews, 
briefly. 

“So the woman is really dead?” And Doctor Rynd 
stepped toward the couch, in his brisk business-like way. 
“ What was the matter with her? ” 

5 


66 


THORNYCROFT GRANGE. 


Doctor Andrews turned suddenly. 

“ She was poisoned ! ” he said, in a low, intense tone. 

Exclamations of surprise and horror were heard from 
every other person present ; but the physician still pre- 
served his stern calmness. 

“ Yes,” he resumed, “ she was poisoned ! Her disease 
was nothing alarming — she would have been up from it in a 
few days. But there has been either treachery or culpable 
carelessness at work ! I saw how it was when I first entered 
the room ; but it was too late then — and there was no help 
for her.” 

Dame Alden came close to him, pulling at his sleeve. 

“ Oh, you must be mistaken ! I'm sure you must ! ” she 
cried, the tears dropping fast over her wrinkled face. “ It 
is awful ! awful ! I can’t bear to think of it ! The poor 
dead lady! Oh, who could have done it? You surely 
don’t think anybody in my house would be so wicked ? ” 

She clung to him convulsively, a dreadful fear and horror 
in her dim and blurred eyes. This was something she had 
not even mistrusted, before — that her lodger had been 
poisoned ! 

“Do not distress yourself, my good woman,” said the 
physician, kindly. “ You are innocent, at least in inten- 
tion. But there is a mystery about this affair that I am 
utterly unable to fathom.” 

Dame Alden wrung her hands impotently. 

“ I do not wonder that our good landlady is very much 
distressed,” said Mr. Harding, coming forward from the 
window, where he had been standing most of the time, his 
face paler and more serious than usual. “ It is a dreadful 
occurrence to happen in one’s house, and leaves room for 
so many suspicions. There can be no doubt that the woman 
was really poisoned ? ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ Not the slightest. I know the symptoms too well to be 


THORNYCROFT GRANGE. 67 

mistaken. I am sure Doctor Rynd will confirm my 
opinion.” 

“ Certainly, Doctor Andrews. There has been some 
deadly drug at work here, without question.” And he ap- 
proached the bed, pulling the sheet away from the head of 
the corpse. “ See for yourself Mr. Harding. There is no 
mistaking those livid features.” 

Mr. Harding came a step or two nearer, though with evi- 
dent reluctance. His face was paler than before, and he 
maintained his self-control by a great effort. He looked 
toward the corpse, . his gaze wandering all around those 
white, set features, without ever falling directly upon them. 

“ Ugh ! ” he exclaimed, drawing back with a shudder, 
'Tam ashamed of myself. I believe I shall never get used 
to these sights. It does not answer for a physician or a 
surgeon to have nerves.” 

He stepped back to the window once more, drumming 
uneasily on the pane. Suddenly he turned. 

“ How and when could the poison have been given to 
Mrs. Grant? ” he asked. “ Everything seemed to be right 
when I ran in here. She was sleeping as evenly as a 
child.” 

“I can’t account for it nohow,” said Dame Alden, 
through her tears. “ She waked up about half an hour 
arter you left — leastways, that is when she rang the bell, I 
came straight up-stairs here, and found her lookin’ real 
smart-like arter her nap. She complained of bein’ thirsty, 
and I run down for some toast and water; but afore I 
gived it to her, I had her take a little of that cordial you 
sent over, Doctor Andrews. She drank the cordial, and a 
swaller or two of the water.” 

“ And had she taken nothing else this afternoon? ” 

“ Nothin’ at all, sir, I’m sure of that. Arter I’d given 
the drinks to her, I stayed in the room, and went to tidyin’ 


68 


THORNYCROFT GRANGE . 


it up a little ; for I didn’t think it looked over and above 
nice for a sick lady, like her. All at once she gave a 
reg’lar screech, and seemed to be taken worse; and it went 
on in that kind of a way until she died — that is, she kept 
cryin’ out, and tossing about. I was scared enough, I can 
tell you ! ” 

“ Where are the glasses from which she drank ? ” asked 
Dr. Andrews. 

“On the bureau, in the ante-room. You’ll find them 
jest as she left them — the toast and water, in one, and the 
dregs o’ cordial in t’other! ” 

Dr. Andrews brought the two glasses into the chamber, 
•and set them both down upon the stand, in front of Dr. 
Rynd, too much agitated, himself, to attempt analyzing 
them. The latter tasted of the toast and water, testing that 
first. 

“There’s nothing the matter with that,” he said, care- 
lessly spiriting it from his mouth. He next took up the 
glass which contained the cordial. There were still a few 
drops remaining in the bottom. He put his finger into the 
little that was left, and tasted it. Then he set the glass 
back upon the stand with an energy that made it ring. 

“ I have found out the trouble,” he exclaimed. “ There 
is strychnia in that cordial, and a powerful dose, too ! ” 

Dr. Andrews grew pale to the very lips. For a moment 
he stood like one confounded, and then his senses and self- 
command seemed slowly to return to him. He tasted for 
himself. 

“You are right,” he said, speaking rather hoarsely. 
“The poison is strychnia, and I have some like it in my 
office. The cordial came from there, but I prepared it 
with my own hands, and could swear it was all right when 
I left it on my table before it was brought here ! I wonder 
if that remaining in the bottle is like this? ” 


THORNYCROFT GRANGE 


69 

He brought the bottle from the ante-room, placing it in 
Dr. Rynd’s hand, without a word. The latter tested it, as 
he had done the dregs in the glass, shaking his head 
gravely, afterward. 

“ This is in the^same condition,” he said, with evident 
reluctance. 

Dr. Andrews covered his face with his hands, and 
groaned aloud. He could take in the matter in all its bear- 
ings, and it is not strange that he felt troubled. There was 
no one at the- inn, and so far as he could judge, had been 
no one, who could have the slightest object in compassing 
this woman’s death. Without any question, she had died 
from the effects of a poison administered in the cordial, 
and the cordial itself had come from his office, had indeed 
been prepared by his own hand ! More than that, some of 
that very poison was at that moment lying upon his table. 

The conclusion would be inevitable. Everybody would 
point to him as the cause of the woman’s untimely death. 
Not the intentional cause — he could have no object in com- 
mitting such a deed — but the cause through culpable care- 
lessness, or inadvertency. And what was more, he could 
blame no one for arriving at such a conclusion from the 
present appearances. Nevertheless, he was ready to have 
taken his oath that he had been neither careless nor guilty. 
But people would judge the case from their own stand- 
point. His reputation might be injured irretrievably — his 
practice would fall off — people would not care to trust him. 
Unless this mystery was soon cleared up, he was a ruined 
man. 

All these thoughts flashed rapidly through his mind, as 
he still stood there with his face shaded by his hands. Mr. 
Harding came up to him, laying his hand upon his 
shoulder. 

“I can read the fears that are troubling you,” the sur- 


;o 


TH0RNYCR0FT GRANGE. 


geon said, with charming frankness. “ This business does 
look a little dark, but I do not imagine you will be the 
worse for it. Cheer up, my dear sir ! People have known 
you too long — and loved you too well, to be ready to cast 
you off lightly, or turn against you.” 

Dr. Andrews wrung his hand warmly. 

“Thank you, Mr. Harding,” he said with emotion. 
“Your friendly words are doubly precious, coming at such 
a moment. Appearances are against me, but I assure you I 
have not been guilty even of carelessness. My assistant, Mr. 
Read, will bear me out in my assertion. He helped me 
prepare the cordial. There has been some one whom 
we little suspect, concerned in this business.” 

The surgeon lifted his eyes suddenly,, with a startled 
look. But there was only sorrowful uncertainty in the gaze 
that met his own. 

“So it would seem,” he said slowly. “ But rest as- 
sured, whatever happens, that I shall always stand by you 
as a friend.” 

“And you may count upon me, also,” Dr. Rynd ex- 
claimed, heartily. “ I will believe anything else, rather 
than think ill of my old friend, Dr. Andrews.” 

“You are both very kind,” said the physician, much 
moved. “I hardly expected to find such warm advocates 
in you. I trust the really guilty party will soon be discov- 
ered. I shall spare no pains or effort to bring about a re- 
sult.” 

He paused. There suddenly crossed his mind the 
thought of Earl Devonshire’s visit to his office earlier in the 
afternoon — their conversation about this woman — and the 
careless manner in which he had sat toying with that iden- 
tical bottle of cordial. Could it be possible that Earl had, 
either by accident or design, added strychnia to the con- 
tents of the bottle at that time ? The idea was very im- 


THORNYCROFT GRAJVGE. 


71 


probable. He dismissed it at once, as not deserving of a 
moment’s credence. He considered Mr. Devonshire one 
of the best and purest-minded men of his acquaintance, 
and therefore above suspicion. 

There was a long silence in the room. Dr. Rynd and 
Mr. Harding seemed gloomily thoughtful. Dame Alden 
was still crying quietly, and Mrs. Jones doing her best to 
comfort her. Dr. Andrews was the first to speak again. 

“Of course there will be an inquest held,” he said. 
“ The glasses and the bottle of cordial must be preserved 
for future use. Mrs. Jones, will you be so kind as to see 
that they are locked up securely ? ” 

“Sartin, sir. Dame Alden will give me the key to the 
bureau drawer, I reckon, and I’ll have them put right in 
there. I promise you there shan’t any one meddle with 
’em while in my care.” 

“The key is in the lock, Mrs. Jones,” said the land- 
lady. “ You can put ’em away jest as soon as ever you 
please.” 

Mrs. Jones pleased to do it immediately, carefully drop- 
ping the key into the deep pocket of her dress. Mr. Hard- 
ing, who had been watching her, turned suddenly to Dr. 
Andrews. 

“Mrs. Grant seems to have come among us as an utter 
stranger,” he said. “ We do not know who are her friends, 
or where she is from. Her relatives, if she has any, ought 
to be immediately notified of her sudden decease.” 

Dr. Andrews bowed, very thoughtfully. 

“I am the person selected by Mrs. Grant to prescribe 
for her,” Mr. Harding resumed, after a pause. “You 
visited her first in your professional capacity, but that does 
not invalidate my claim, since I was the first one summoned. 
Some one must examine the effects of the deceased to as- 
certain the address, and what I was about to say is that, as 


I 2 


THORNYCROFT GRANGE . 


her physician, I am willing to incur the responsibility of 
that examination.” 

He looked from one to the other of the physicians, as if 
anxious to read their opinion of this plan in their faces, 
even before it was expressed in words. 

“ It would hardly be your right,” said Dr. Andrews, at 
length. “The proper officers had much better be called 
in. Since I am so strangely mixed up in this affair, I will 
tell you frankly that I much prefer to have them attend to 
the business. Then no one could accuse us of the craft, or 
attempting to shield each other, or keep anything back.” 

“I am sure people would not think that, in any event,” 
returned the surgeon, with suppressed eagerness. “I can- 
not see why it would not be just as well, and everything 
could be kept so much more quietly. Dame Alden and 
Mrs. Jones could assist me in the examination.” 

“ I shall consent to nothing of the kind,” said Dr. Rynd, 
sturdily. “It would be utterly useless, since the proper 
officers would be compelled to make another examination. 
We cannot take work out of their hands in that way, even 
though we do feel so disposed.” 

Mr. Harding flushed a little angrily. But he saw the 
force of Dr. Rynd’s remarks, and could not but signify his 
assent to them. 

Dame Alden had been quietly listening to their conversa- 
tion. The terrible event which had just happened had 
seemed to take away her wits, at first, but now she could 
think more calmly. 

“I reckon Earl Devonshire might be able to tell us some- 
thin’ about this woman, if you should call him in,” she 
said, suddenly recollecting the emotion which the deceased 
had manifested on first hearing his name, and her subse- 
quent interest in his affairs. “Anyhow, if Mrs. Grant 


THORNYCROFT GRANGE. 73 

didn’t know him herself, she had heard on him, for she told 
me so with her own lips.” 

Two of the hearers were visibly affected by this announce- 
ment — Dr. Andrews and Mr. Harding. The surgeon 
smothered an exclamation, and a curious light crept into his 
keen eyes. As for the physician, he gave a sudden start, 
and swept his hand across his brow in deep perplexity. He 
again called to mind Earl’s visit to his office, and the 
poisoned bottle of cordial, and asked himself once more if 
there could be any possible connection between the two. If 
Mr. Devonshire had been really acquainted with the dead 
woman, this would look more probable, as he then might 
have some object in getting her out of the way. But it was 
too horrible a thought to be entertained for one moment. 
Therefore he tried to dismiss it as he had done once be- 
fore. 

“Mr. Devonshire has traveled considerably,” said the 
surgeon, after a little. “ Nothing is more probable than 
that he may have met with Mrs. Grant. He had better be 
called over in the morning, to see if he recognizes the 
corpse.” 

He looked toward Dr. Andrews, inquiringly. 

“ Yes,” assented the physician, with a suppressed sigh ; 
“ it might save us some trouble. But I must go now. Dr. 
Rynd, you will see that everything is done as it should 
be?” 

Dr. Rynd bowed very gravely, and Dr. Andrews walked 
slowly from the room, and descended the stairs. 


74 


THORNYCROFT GRANGE. 


CHAPTER X. 

A POSSIBLE LINK IN THE CHAIN. 

“ There’s a Divinity that shapes our ends.” Dr. An- 
drews had been gone from the chamber of death but a few 
moments, when Mr. Harding, feeling assured that he would 
not be allowed to examine the effects of the deceased, as he 
seemed so desirous of doing, quietly took up his hat, and 
went out also, with a parting bow to Dr. Rynd, whom he 
left behind. He pushed his way through the crowd of 
women who still filled the halls, and had just reached the 
street, when .he was met, face to face, by Mr. Reed, Dr. 
Andrews’s assistant. 

As we have once said of him, the young surgeon could 
be the most cordial of men, where it suited his purpose to 
make the effort. Now he paused, and shook hands very 
warmly with Mr. Read. 

“ Whither away, my fine fellow? ” he asked, slapping him 
familiarly upon the shoulder. 

“Only to Ben Hallett’s, to carry some medicine for his 
wife. Have you just come from the Washington House? 
I should have been up myself, ,but did not seem to find the 
time. That is sad business up there — very sad, sir.” 

“ Have you heard of it so soon ? ” asked the surgeon, in 
real surprise. 

“ Bless you, sir, the whole street knows that the woman 
is dead, by this time. It is a wonder how news does travel 
here ! They don’t know what ailed her, but I have heard 
a dozen different stories already.” 

“ What sort of stories? ” 


THORNYCROFT GRANGE. 


75 

“ Oh, some say that she had a fit, and others even hint 
that she committed suicide.” 

“The truth is more horrible than their suspicions, then. 
She was poisoned.” 

“Poisoned!” 

Mr. Read repeated the word, staring blankly at the sur- 
geon, as if he could. not quite comprehend. 

“Yes. It is not yet known whether by accident or de- 
sign. There seems to be a strange mystery enshrouding 
the affair. The poison was contained in the bottle of cor- 
dial which was brought up from your office. That is the 
worst phase of the matter, in my opinion.” 

“ You cannot mean it? Why, I carried the cordial over 
myself, this very afternoon ! Mr. Devonshire went with 
me, I remember. He was going up to Colonel Floyd’s, 
where he is stopping.” 

“Mr. Devonshire,” repeated the surgeon, with a start of 
surprise. “ I wonder what he could have known about the 
murdered woman? Did he go in to see her? ” 

“ Oh, no ! He did not stop, and no more did I, except 
to hand the cordial to the landlady. Then I went straight 
back to the office. But it is strange, sir, that the poison 
should be put into the bottle of cordial. I saw Dr. Andrews 
when he mixed it, and know that it was all right when he 
left it on his table to be sent out. If there was poison in 
the cordial, it is not a case of carelessness, sir, but of wilful 
murder.” 

The man’s voice was very earnest and impressive. Mr. 
Harding grew a shade paler. 

“So it would appear,” he said. “But, Mr. Read, you 
have not told me how Earl Devonshire happened to be with 
you to-day, Did he tell you that he knew this Mrs. 
Grant? ” 

“ No. I am sure he did not know her. He was passing 


;6 


THORNYCROFT GRANGE. 


by, and called in at our office. He was not even aware 
that there was such a person at the Washington House, un- 
til Dr. Andrews told him. He seemed very much inter- 
ested in her, though, and said he was very sorry for her to 
be sick there, away from her friends.” 

“Was this before or after the preparation of the cor- 
dial ? ” 

“After. The cordial was standing on the table at that 
moment. I remember this particularly, because Mr. Devon- 
shire sat down beside the table, and took up that very bot- 
tle. He held it for some time, toying with it rather ab- 
sently, and Dr. Andrews had to call to him to be careful, 
at last, as there was strychnia lying open on the table, and 
he might flirt some of it where it did not belong.” 

“Ah ! ” 

This was Mr. Harding’s only comment, but the little 
monosyllable had a world of meaning, from the tone in 
which it was uttered. A strange smile crept to his lips, 
and that singular look stole into his eyes once more. 

“ There, there ! ” he exclaimed after a pause. “I’ll 
not listen to another word ! I have heard too much, 
already. Good morning, Mr. Read.” 

He turned, walking rapidly away, leaving Mr. Read very 
much perplexed at his words, and the peculiar manner in 
which they had been uttered. He might have understood 
them better, perhaps, had not his confidence in Mr. Devon- 
shire’s integrity been so unbounded. As it was, he did 
not even mistrust that they were meant to reflect particular- 
ly upon Earl. 

“ Well, Mr. Harding always did have a peculiar way of 
putting things,” he finally muttered, as he slowly plodded 
his way back to the office. “But I would like to know 
what he meant ! It seemed to me he was trying to fasten 
the guilt on some one or other, and was pumping me for 


THORNYCROFT GRANGE. 77 

evidence to help his cause along. Well, much good may 
he get from any information I gave him ! ” 

He found Dr. Andrews waiting for him a little anxiously 
when he reached the office. The good physician had been 
carefully considering matters since coming from the inn. 
A woman had been poisoned, perhaps designedly, and no 
effort would be spared to discover the guilty. Should it 
become noised abroad that Earl Devonshire, who, accord- 
ing to Dame Alden’s account, was probably the only person 
in the neighborhood who had ever had any previous ac- 
quaintance with the woman had handled that identical bot- 
tle of cordial, and at a table where the very poison made 
use of had been lying open, suspicion would at once be 
roused against him. This little mass of circumstantial 
evidence would go a great way toward convicting him, in 
some minds. Dr. Andrews had revolved it carefully and 
seriously, but he could not bring himself to believe in his 
friend’s guilt. He thought he had known him too well to 
be deceived, and so long as their was a question in the mat- 
ter, he resolved to give him the full benefit of the doubt. 

Had he been a selfish or a worldly man, for his own good * 
he would at once have related the scene that had transpired 
in his office. It would have thrown all blame and re- 
sponsibility from his own shoulders, as he knew Mr. Read 
would be ready to swear that the cordial was in a proper 
condition when he placed it upon the table. Mr. Devon- 
shire’s careless handling of it would explain a way in which 
the poison might have been introduced into it. But Dr. 
Andrews chose to believe that it was not introduced then, 
but subsequently, and by some other person (though he had 
not the slightest idea who that other person could have 
been), while the bottle was standing on the bureau in the 
ante-room at the inn. Therefore he resolved to keep his 
own counsel, for the present, at least, so that not even the 


7 * 


THORNYCROFT GRANGE. 


breath of scandal should sully Mr. Devonshire’s fair fame. 
This is why he was so impatiently awaiting Mr. Read. He 
meant to put him, also on his guard. 

“Have you heard the news— the tragical end of our 
patient at the Washington House? ” was his first question, 
as his assistant entered the office. 

“ I have. It was dreadful was it not? I just now met 
Mr. Harding, and he told me.” 

“ Did he tell you that the woman was poisoned? ” asked 
the physician, rather anxiously. 

“Yes. I could hardly credit his story, though. He 
says the poison was contained in the bottle of cordial that 
I carried up to the inn.” 

“Such is the fact,” returned Dr. Andrews, very thought- 
fully. 

“ Then > sir > 1 am sadl y a ^id that people will be blaming 
you. But they, need not, though. I stood by when you 
mixed the cordial, you will remember, and I am ready to 
take oath, if need be, that it was prepared properly.” 

“Iam glad of that. It is very probable that you will be 
called upon to testify to the same, for I certainly mean to 
vindicate myself from all suspicion, if it may be. It would 
nearly ruin my practice, for people to get the idea that I 
was so wickedly careless. They would consider life as 
something too precious to be risked in the hands of one so 
neglectful of common precautions. As a natural conse- 
quence, they would cease to employ me.” 

Mr. Read saw the force of these remarks. He now be- 
gan to look upon the affair as one of more serious moment 
than he had thought when it had first been mentioned by 
Mr. Harding. * 

“ I see, sir, I see ! ” he exclaimed. « You are left in a 
bad predicament, to say the least. It is of the utmost im- 


THORNYCROFT GRANGE. 79 

portance to you that the mystery of the murder, if murder 
it was, should be speedily cleared up.” 

“ Yes. But I have not the slightest clue, as yet, or at 
least, not any that I am willing to follow up. ’ ’ 

He paused, his eyes fixed thoughtfully upon the floor. 
Finally he looked up. 

“ I can trust you, Mr. Read? ” he began, half-question- 
ingly, closely scanning his assistant’s face. “ You will 
submit to be guided by my judgment, if I confide more to 
you ? ” 

“Entirely, Dr. Andrews,” was the frank reply. “Tell 
me as much or as little as you please. In any event, I will 
gladly abide by your wishes.” 

“ I have not much to tell. It is rather to put you on 
your guard, that I have spoken. In the first place, Dame 
Alden says that the murdered woman knew Earl Devon- 
shire, or at least, had heard of him.” 

“ How strange! He never let on anything of the kind 
when he was in here, and you were speaking of her. I am 
sure he would, had he known who she was. Her name was 
certainly mentioned in his presence.” 

“I have also been puzzled to account for this. But the 
woman may not have been personally acquainted with him, 
even though she had heard of him. If they were old ac- 
quaintances, I do not see what possible motive he could 
have had in concealing this fact.” 

“I am sure that they were not, or at least, that he was 
not aware of her identity when he called here this after- 
noon. His whole manner indicated as much. I am cer- 
tain I could not have been so deceived by appearances.” 

“ I hope not. But that visit itself renders matters more 
complicated, and throws a suspicion of guilt upon Mr, 
Devonshire himself.” 

Mr. Read started violently. 


8o 


THORNYCROFT GRANGE. 


“ What do you mean? ” he asked, in unfeigned surprise. 

‘ ‘ The facts of the case are simply these. The woman at 
least knew of Earl Devonshire, and, so far as we know, 
was a stranger to everybody else in Linden-Car. Some- 
body evidently had an object in getting her out of the way. 
She was poisoned by the introduction of strychnia into the 
cordial. That cordial stood on this table, and was handled 
by Earl Devonshire before it left his office. Moreover the 
strychnia lay there, within his reach.” 

Mr. Read uttered a stifled exclamation. 

“ It has a bad look, sir,” he said, slowly. “ You surely 
do not suspect Mr. Devonshire ? I would as soon accuse 
my own brother.” 

“ No, I do not suspect him. But others will, mark you, 
if they learn the full facts of the case. That is why I have 
spoken to you. We must maintain a strict silence in re- 
gard to Mr. Devonshire’s visit here.” 

Mr. Read’s face flushed. He had already spoken of it 
to Mr. Harding. However, he did not now acknowledge 
as much, but mentally resolved to caution the surgeon to 
silence, at the very first opportunity. 

“You are right,” he said, hesitatingly. “That is the 
only way in which we can shield him from suspicion, 
though, for my part, I’d wager my life on his innocence. 
But others might not have the same faith in him. Yes, 
we had better say nothing, at present, of his call here. 
Though, to tell the truth, it strikes me that it would be for 
your interest, Dr. Andrews, to make a clean breast of it.” 

“I suppose it would,” returned the physician, slowly. 
‘ ‘ But I have no wish to clear myself of a suspicion of care- 
lessness, if, to do it, I must charge a man who may be, and 
I think is innocent, with the most horrible of crimes. I 
should not feel justified in such a course. You and I must 
quietly bide our time, and watch the course of events. If 


THORNYCROFT GRANGE. 


8l 


circumstances tell too glaringly against Devonshire, then it 
will be time enough to move in the matter, and confess 
what we know. Until that time we are to preserve a 
strict silence, remember.” 

Mr. Read saw, from Dr. Andrews’s manner, that he was 
wholly in earnest, and he now began to wish, more than 
ever, that he had not been^so deplorably hasty and careless 
in his remarks to Mr. Harding. Earl Devonshire was a 
great favorite with him, and he would not willingly have 
worked him ill. Since his conversation with Dr. Andrews, 
he thought he understood better the drift of Mr. Harding’s 
questions and puzzling remarks. The surgeon must also 
have had his suspicions aroused against Mr. Devonshire, 
but assuredly he would hold his peace. They were rivals, 
to be sure, but Mr. Harding certainly would not suffer that 
fact to influence his course of conduct. 

This is the manner in which Air. Read reasoned. At 
nearly the same moment Mr. Harding was sitting in his 
private office at home, reflecting on the same subject, but 
with a smile of maligrant triumph parting his thin lips. 

“ At last, at last ! I was almost in despair, a few hours 
gone -by,” he muttered, “ and now the very Fates seem to 
be playing into my hands. ITave a hold on Earl Devon- 
shire, and will use it, too — only the reins must be drawn . 
lightly when my Lady Magdalen is around to see. At last, 
dainty Maud, my peerless darling, there is a chance of win- 
ning thee! I only wish,” his brow darkening, thought- 
fully, “ that the inquest on that woman were well over ! I 
do not think I need to borrow any trouble about it, 
though.” 

So saying, he shortly picked up a new chemical work 
from his table, and began to read it eagerly, as if seeking 
to banish all further thought and care in its perusal. 

6 


8 2 


THORNYCROFT GRANGE. 


/ 


CHAPTER XI. 

THE NEXT MORNING. 

As we have before said, both Thornycroft Grange and 
the residence of Colonel Floyd were situated outside the 
village limits. Indeed, the Grange was nearly two miles 
away, and the colonel’s house about half that distance, 
though they were not situated in the same direction, but 
more nearly at right angles to each other. It happened, 
curiously enough, that no member of either household was 
in the village after half-past four, on this Tuesday after- 
noon, and consequently the sad tragedy that had been en- 
acted at the Washington House was not known at either 
place until the next morning. 

At an early hour Wednesday morning, Earl Devonshire 
went over to the Grange, taking the shorter route, a bridle- 
path leading through the fields. He had arranged to ac- 
company Maud and Magdalen on a horseback excursion, 
and wished to be there in good season, that they might take 
advantage of the cooler morning air for their ride. 

Magdalen was not yet down, but Maud had already 
donned her riding-habit, and was standing on the piazza, 
waiting for him, when he reached the Grange. She came 
forward, blushingly holding out her hand, in welcome. 

“ How lovely you are looking this morning, my Maud,” 
he whispered, softly, pressing her hand between both his 
own. 

Aunt Barbara caught sight of him from the dining-room 
windows, and soon came rushing out, meeting him with her 
usual gay bandinage. “She was not going to leave him 


THORNYCROFT GRANGE. 


83 


and Maud there, to be cooing like two silly turtle doves,” 
she said. 

They were chatting very gayly, when Magdalen swept 
down through the spacious halls, her long skirts trailing the 
floor, ahd her softly-tinted plumes drooping gracefully about 
her beautiful face. Their peculiar droop had been the re- 
sult of a full half-hour’s study in her own room, and of 
course the effect was bewitching. 

“ I was not aware that you had arrived, Mr. Devonshire,” 
she said, coming forward, and bidding him a very gracious 
good-morning. “That must be my apology for having 
kept you waiting.” 

“It does not matter. We have plenty of time before 
us,” returned Earl. 

“ That is fortunate,” broke in Aunt Barbara, “ for Miss 
Duprez never likes to be hurried when she means to put on 
one of her killing costumes. A lady’s toilet requires study, 
I would have you know, sir, and cannot be gotten up in a 
minute. If it is no more than a riding-rig, there is always 
a choice in the way in which it is to be put on.” 

“Just listen, will you, Mr. Devonshire?” Magdalen re- 
turned, with a gay laugh. “ What an arrant diplomatist 
Miss Dean must have been in her younger days ! No won- 
der the men were all afraid of her, and she drew a blank 
in the matrimonial lottery.” 

“ At all events, I was never so base as to try to captivate 
their lovers away from my dearest friends,” retorted Aunt 
Barbara, rather indignantly. 

“Why Miss Dean, -I hope you and Magdalen have not 
begun your sparring already, this morning,” said Earl, 
laughingly. “ I don’t know what to make of you two. 
You always seem ‘agreed to disagree.’ ” 

Neither of the belligerent parties had an opportunity to 
reply to this, for just then a horseman came dashing up the 


8 4 


THORNYCROFT GRANGE. 


avenue, drawing rein before the door. It was a young man 
from the village. 

“ I have a note for you, Mr. Devonshire,” he said, hast- 
ily dismounting. “ 1 rode over to Colonel Floyd’s in the 
first place, but you were gone, and as my business is of im - 
portance, I ventured to follow you here.” 

Mr. Devonshire took the note which he presented, and 
breaking the seal, hastily ran his eyes over its contents. As 
he read, an expression of undisguised amazement came 
upon his face. 

“ I am really at a loss what to think of this,” he said, 
looking up from the paper, at last. “ My letter is from 
Dr. Rynd. I will read it aloud, and perhaps you will be 
able to assist me in the solution of the mystery, Magdalen. 
You know many people with whom I used to be intimate.” 

He ran his eyes over the letter once more, and then read 
aloud, as follows : 

“ My Dear Devonshire : — I beg ten thousand pardons for troub- 
ling you at all, but the urgency of the case must be my excuse. The 
effects of Mrs. Grant, who died yesterday evening, have been searched 
in vain for the address of some friend to whom we can communicate 
the sad event. She seems to have been a stranger to all, and no one 
can tell where she is from, or why she came here. Dame Alden 
thinks she may have been an acquaintance of yours. Will you please 
come over at your earliest convenience, to see if you recognize the 
body, and thus assist us in finding the friends of the deceased ? 

“ Very truly yours, 

Charles Rynd." 

He finished the perusal of the letter, and folded it away 
in his pocket, looking both puzzled and thoughtful. 

“It must be the woman of whom Dr. Andrews was 
speaking when I called at his office yesterday. He did not 
consider her dangerously ill at that time, however. I was 
not aware that she had died since. It is the woman who 


THORNYCROFT GRANGE. 85 

was stopping at the Washington House, is it not?” And 
he turned inquiringly to the messenger. 

“ It is, sir.” 

“ And her name was Grant ? I wonder why Dame Al- 
den thought I knew her? She was mistaken. You may 
tell Dr. Rynd so. I was never intimate with a family of 
that name. Do you think you have ever met her, Magda- 
len ? ’ ’ 

“ I am sure I have not,” was her reply. “ I never for- 
got names, and should now remember Mrs. Grant’s had I 
ever known her.” 

“ Certainly. She is probably an utter stranger to us 
both. Were I not satisfied of that fact, I would willingly 
accompany you back to the Washington House. Say as 
much to Dr. Rynd from me, if you please. Poor woman ! 
I deeply regret her untimely end. Did you learn the cause 
of her death?” 

“ She was poisoned, sir ! ” 

Earl Devonshire turned a shade paler, starting back with 
a look of amazement. Aunt Barbara uttered a little shriek, 
while Maud gave vent to an exclamation of horror. Mag- 
dalen seemed to be the only unmoved person in the group. 

“ You shock me,” Earl at last found voice to say. “ I 
was not expecting to hear anything so dreadful. How did 
it occur? ” 

The young man gave him a full account of the particu- 
lars, so far as they were known, dwelling more especially 
upon the fact that the trouble had all arisen from a bottle 
of cordial which had been prepared for Mrs. Grant by Dr. 
Andrews. 

“ How distressing ! Dr. Andrews must feel very badly, 
I am sure, whether the woman’s death is the result of care- 
lessness or not. He has always been one of the best and 
most faithful physicians. I cannot think the blame of this 


86 


THORNYCROFT GRANGE . 


matter lies with him : I remember the cordial. I was 
with Mr. Read when he took it over, yesterday.” 

The man remained but a few moments after this, but 
Earl repeated his message to Dr. Rynd, ere he rode back 
to the village. Our hero would have accompanied him, 
but for his engagement with the young ladies. As it was, 
he mentally resolved to find his way to the Washington 
House immediately after his return from their ride. 

There was very little time on this occasion in which to 
discuss the terrible tragedy with which the party had just 
been made acquainted. The horses were ordered up at 
once, and they shortly set out on their excursion, though 
with seriously dampened spirits. The enjoyment to which 
they had looked forward so confidently, was utterly de- 
stroyed. The sudden death of the strange lady had no 
connection with the destiny of either of the three, so far 
as they were then aware, but it had the effect of rendering 
them all serious and thoughtful. 

Magdalen was much more taciturn than her companions 
had ever before known her to be. She was, in truth, 
thinking over the account of Mrs. Grant’s death, which the 
bearer of the letter had given. She had been interested in 
it, more than she cared to confess. She had always loved 
anything that had a touch of the horrible or marvellous in 
it. Now she felt impelled < to know more of this affair, to 
clear up the mystery that enshrouded it, if might be. At 
any rate, it seemed as if she must look on that dead wo- 
man’s face ! 

They were riding slowly along, in a direction opposite to 
the village. It had been their original design to scale the 
further line of hills, but now Magdalen suddenly stopped 
short in the middle of the road. 

“We have gone far enough for to-day,” she said, reso- 
lutely meeting the astonished glances which Earl and Maud 


THORNYCROFT GRANGE . 


87 


turned upon her. “I, for one, am going down to Linden- 
Car. I have a curiosity to behold this dead woman of 
whom we have been told.” 

Earl paused, irresolutely. 

“What are your wishes, Maud?” he asked. “I too, 
would like to see the woman. Notwithstanding my present 
impression, it is possible that I have formerly known her 
under some other name. In that case, I could assist mate- 
rially in finding her friends. Now, shall we go on, or turn 
back?” 

“ I am perfectly willing to be guided by your and Mag- 
dalen’s wishes,” said Maud, quietly turning her horse’s 
head. “ We will go to Linden-Car.” 

This settled the matter at once, and they took the road 
for the village, setting out on a brisk trot. When they 
reached the street, they immediately saw that quite an ex- 
citement was prevailing. Knots of people were gathered 
here and there, and everybody seemed to be eagerly dis- 
cussing the singular events of the past twenty-four hours. 
Quite a crowd was collected before the Washington House, 
so that they really met with some difficulty in dismounting 
and effecting an entrance. In the upper hall they met Dr. 
Rynd, who shook hands with them very cordially. 

“ This is a shocking affair — very shocking,” he said. 
“ I hope you will forgive me for dropping you that note, 
Mr. Devonshire. We were in a great stress to know where 
Mrs. Grant was from. We hoped you might give us some 
information. That is why I wrote.” 

“Yes,” said Dame Alden, who made her appearance 
while Dr. Rynd was speaking. “I told ’em you’d be sure 
to know somethin’ about my late lodger, and really reck- 
oned you would. Anyhow, she seemed to know you, for 
she gin an awful screech when she fust heard you were 
here, and dropped quite away. It was strange enough, 


88 


THORNYCROFT GRANGE. 


now wasn’t it? I asked her arterwards, if she knowed you, 
and she said as how she had heerd of you afore.” 

Mr. Devonshire smiled quietly. 

“ I think you must have been mistaken as to the cause 
of Mrs. Grant’s emotion,” he said. “I can hardly imag- 
ine that it had any connection with my name. At all 
events, that lady was an utter stranger to me, unless, in- 
deed, she was here under a fictitious name.” 

Dr. Rynd laughed knowingly. He had not the most 
profound respect for Dame Alden’s power of discernment. 

“ I more than half believed that such was the case,” he 
muttered. “ But go on to the chamber. Our worthy host- 
ess will pilot the way, and I will return in a moment. 
Since I wrote to you this morning, we have found the frag- 
ment of a letter that I would like to show you, when I 
come up. I want your opinion in regard to it, for it hints 
at something rather mysterious.” 

He passed rapidly on, and descended the stairs, without 
having explained himself further, leaving our trio entirely 
at the mercy of good Dame Alden. 

“ Lawks ! I’m glad enough to have the likes of you in 
my poor house, Miss Maud,” she said, addressing our her- 
oine. “ It ain’t often that it is graced by sich folks. Nor 
by such a beautiful lady as yourself,” she added, turning to 
Magdalen. “But come right along. You shall seethe 
poor, dear creetur that came to her death under this roof, 
more’s the pity. She is lyin’ there in my front chamber, 
looking nat’ral as life, only so blue and queer ! She was a 
sweet, pretty lady, if ever one lived ! I wish you had 
known her ! ” 


THORNYCROFT GRANGE. 


89 


CHAPTER XII. 

IN THE CHAMBER OF DEATH. 

While they still stood in the upper passage waiting for 
the slow-motioned landlady to conduct them to the cham- 
ber of death, Leonard Harding suddenly made his appear- 
ance, coming up from the hall below. He had evidently 
just arrived at the Washington House, and was not aware 
of their presence, until he came upon them so unexpect- 
edly. 

He was looking somewhat pale and depressed, but imme- 
diately came forward, warmly shaking hands with the three. 
This was the first time he had met Maud and Mr. Devon- 
shire since the night of the party at Thornycroft Grange. 
Magdalen he had seen the day before, when she had visited 
him at his office. However, he now met her as if he had 
not seen her since the previous week. 

“ And so you have heard of this shocking business, even 
at the Grange?” he asked, fixing his eyes upon Maud’s 
blushing face. 

“ Yes. We did not know of it until this morning, how- 
ever,” she returned. “ We are but mortals, and must 
needs yield to our curiosity, and ride down here.” 

“Iam almost sorry that you have come, Miss Ingestre,” 
he said, earnestly. “ This woman will not be a pleasant 
sight for you to behold.” 

“ It makes no difference. I expect to look upon scenes 
that will hurt and shock me, sometimes. I am no better 
than other people, that I should be shielded from them. If 
Magdalen goes in, I shall certainly accompany her.” 


90 TH0RNYCR0FT GRANGE. 

She spoke with considerable decision, moving further 
away from him, and drawing closer to Miss Duprez. There 
was a sad, half-reproachful look in his eyes, as he fixed 
them upon her, that annoyed her excessively. She felt 
that he had no right to regard her in that way, and in- 
tended to make him understand as much from her manner 
toward him. Magdalen mistrusted her design, whether he 
did or not, and felt that Mr. Harding was acting very un- 
wisely for the good of his cause. 

“ Just observe how tender he is of Maud !” she ex- 
claimed, in an aside to Earl. “ All our friends seem to 
combine in petting and spoiling her. No one ever thinks 
of caring for me in that way.” 

“ You two are so different,” he returned, wholly un- 
moved by the surgeon’s very apparent devotion to his own 
promised wife. “You are strong and self-reliant, while 
Maud is tenderer and more clinging in her nature. Men 
are more apt to be courteous and careful *of such a woman. 
I am not at all surprised at Mr. Harding’s solicitude. I 
have felt the same myself, but thought Miss Ingestre fully 
capable of exercising her own judgment in the matter.” 

Magdalen was silenced. If she thought to arouse Mr. 
Devonshire’s jealousy or distrust by her covert thrust, she 
had most signally failed. 

“Well, well! You are correct, no doubt; but I have 
no desire to discuss the point.” And then, slightly raising 
her voice, “ Dame Alden, I think we are all ready to follow 
you, now.” 

“ Sartain, sartain, my dear young lady ! Come right 
along. It will be a sad sight for you and Miss Maud to be- 
hold, as Mr. Harding has just been sayin’. But you’re 
welcome to come in, perfectly welcome.” 

She opened the door of the ante-room for them to pass 
through. They found only Mrs. Jones and another woman 


THORNYCROFT GRANGE. 


9 I 


in the chamber of death. All others had been carefully 
excluded. Otherwise the room would have been continu- 
ally thronged by the curious villagers, coming and going. 
There was no other way but to keep out all who were not 
really needed there. 

The body was laid out upon the bed, and carefully cov- 
ered with a sheet. Mr. Harding did not approach it, but 
loitered behind the rest, near the window. Magdalen took 
advantage of the opportunity, and coming close to his side, 
whispered, hurriedly : 

“ What have you done, Leonard ? Iam dying with im- 
patience ! Have you begun to see your way clearer than 
you did ? ” 

He drew slightly away from her, shivering, and raising 
his hand with a gesture of impatience. 

“Be cautious, Magdalen ! ” he almost hissed. “This 
is no time for discussing the matter — we shall be observed. 
If I am to do the work, you ought at least to be content to 
abide the result.” 

He gloomily folded his arms, his lips compressed. There 
was a look of real suffering upon his face, as he turned it 
to the light. 

“ He must have loved my lily-white Maude far better 
than I had ever imagined,” Magdalen muttered, as she left 
him. 

Meanwhile, Dame Alden had gone straight to the bed, 
pulling down the sheet from the livid face of the corpse. 
Earl and Maud had followed more slowly, the former clasp- 
ing the girl’s hand, as if he thought she could look upon 
death more calmly, with him close beside her. They ap- 
proached the bed slowly and reverentially. Maud was the 
first to look upon the features of the dead woman. 

“What a sweet face,” she exclaimed, shrinking back, 


92 


THORNYCROFT GRANGE. 


with a half-shiver. “It fascinates, and yet fills me with 
dread. Oh, how awful death is, especially such a death ! M 

Earl bent over her, rather reluctantly, to look. Sud- 
denly he dropped her hand, as if something had stung 
him. A wild, wandering expression crept into his eyes, 
and a deathly pallor settled over his rigid features. He 
shivered, his lips trembled and he sank upon his knees be*- 
side the bed, covering his white face with his hands, and 
giving utterance to the single, hoarsely-whispered exclama- 
tion : 

“My God!” 

He remained there fully five minutes, neither looking up 
nor speaking, but shivering now and then, as if with cold. 
Maud stood close beside him, trembling and tearful, and 
yet not daring to address him. She wondered at the sud- 
den change that had come over him, but something in the 
expression she had seen upon his face, ere it had been hid- 
den away from her, kept her silent, and froze the words of 
comfort and tenderness she might otherwise have uttered 
upon her lips. Whatever was ailing him, whether some 
torturing pain, or the agony of some sudden discovery, he 
evidently was in no mood to receive her sympathy, at least, 
just then. 

Magdalen and Mr. Harding had also observed his emo- 
tion, the former with undisguised astonishment, the latter 
more calmly, as if he had been expecting to witness some- 
thing of the kind. A strangely triumphant smile curled 
his lips for a single moment. Was he thinking of what 
Mr. Read had said, and glorying in this fresh proof of his 
rival’s possible guilt ? Only God and his own heart knew. 
He might also be pardoned for feeling some exultation at 
the debasement of his rival in the presence of the woman 
whom they both loved. 

Neither did this scene pass wholly unobserved by Dame 


THORNYCROFT GRANGE. 


93 


Alden. Even to her obtuse mind, there was something 
significant in it. She could not think that Earl was suffer- 
ing from a sudden spasm of physical pain alone. 

“ Lawks ! if things ain't cornin’ to a pretty pass ! ” she 
muttered. “ These are all’ mighty queer doings for a quiet 
sort of a house like mine. He may talk as much as he 
pleases, but if there warn’t nothin’ between Earl Devon- 
shire and that woman, then I lose my guess ! I can’t im- 
agine what she could have been to him, though.” 

There was a dead silence in the room. Magdalen 
glanced at Mr. Harding, a puzzled, inquiring expression 
flitting over her face. He met her gaze calmly, his own 
features inscrutable. She could read nothing of what was 
passing through his mind. 

Earl got up, finally, standing beside Maud, calm and 
composed once more. But his face was very white still, 
and there were hard, stern lines upon it, such as she had 
never seen there before. He seemed like one who had 
passed through a great struggle, who had battled bravely 
with temptation and pain, and who, though earnestly striv- 
ing to understand and do the right, yet felt himself sadly 
under the influence of the flesh and the devil. Some great 
passion was certainly struggling in his mind for the mas- 
tery, and, so far as his expression went, it might have been 
either a bitter repentance for his own sin and guilt, or a 
burning, irrepressible desire to have revenge for the crimes 
committed by another. 

Maud drew nearer to him, gathering courage from the 
look of unutterable sadness that swept over his face. 

“What is it, Earl? ’’she whispered, laying her hand 
softly upon his arm. “You look pale and ill. Can I 
help you ? Do not fear to trust me. You have no idea 
how much I could or would suffer for your sake, if need 
be.” 


94 


THORNYCROFT GRANGE. 


He caught the hand, raining hot, sudden kisses upon it. 

“ Thank you, my darling ! ” he cried, with much emo- 
tion. “ I know you are a brave, noble girl. I ought not to 
have given way to my feelings before you, but it was the 
effect of a sudden agony which I could not control, en- 
tirely. I am better and calmer now, do you not see that I 
am ? I shall not suffer that old pain to overcome me so 
again.” 

A look of quiet determination settled upon his face. It 
seemed as if he must then and there have settled some 
weighty question which he had been pondering in his 
mind. He looked down into Maud’s troubled eyes, forc- 
ing a smile, as if anxious to reassure her. 

Magdalen came forward just then. She knew it was the 
sight of the dead woman’s face that had affected Earl so 
strangely, and she could not but wonder at it. “ He must 
have recognized some old acquaintance, after all, she said to 
herself. But, even if such was the case, there was still 
something out of the usual order in the matter. Why did 
he not at once confess this acquaintance when Maud had 
addressed him, instead of attempting to account for his 
emotion in some other way ? She could not tell ; but of 
one thing she felt satisfied — that the woman, whoever she 
was, had been more than an ordinary friend to Earl, else 
he would not have been so much disturbed. It was all 
very strange and unaccountable. 

It was with these feelings crowding through her mind 
that she pressed forward to look at the corpse. She, too, 
seemed to recognize something familiar in that cold, 
ghastly face, for she started violently, uttering a suppressed 
exclamation, as her eyes fell upon it. She turned to Earl, 
with a startled, inquiring look, and then, resuming her self- 
control by an apparent effort, went slowly back to the 
window \yhere Mr. Harding was still standing. 


THORNYCROFT GRANGE. 


95 


“ I have seen enough for to-day,” she said, in an altered 
voice. “ It was very foolish in me to have come here. A 
dead face always haunts me for weeks after I have looked 
upon it. Come Maud, shall we not go back to the 
Grange ? ” 

“Yes, yes, I am ready. I, too, wish we had never 
come. Let us return, by all means ! I do not see that we 
can be of any use here ! ” exclaimed Maud, with feverish 
eagerness. 

Mr. Harding turned suddenly, facing her. 

“No, you will only be in the way,” he said. “ There 
are plenty of women about, who can do everything that 
needs to be done. You had better have been guided by 
my advice, and not come in at all. But, before you go, I 
must ask Mr. Devonshire whether the countenance of the 
deceased is sufficiently familiar, so that he can assist us in 
finding her friends. We have been led to think that you 
may have known her at some period in your past life, sir, 
and were really depending upon you for information con- 
cerning her.” 

A malicious glitter came into his eyes, when he turned to 
address Earl. He evidently thought he was taking him at 
a disadvantage. For a moment our hero’s features worked 
convulsively, and his eyes burned like live coals. He bit 
his lip hard, and stood like a couchant lion, prepared to 
spring. Then a sudden change came over him. A strange 
smile parted his lips, and he faced the young surgeon 
resolutely and fearlessly : 

“I can give you no information, Mr. Harding,” he said, 
calmly. “I doubt if I know any more than yourself of 
the deceased Mrs. Grant.” 

The young surgeon gave him a quick, startled glance, as 
if afraid there might be some secret meaning lurking behind 
his words. But Earl’s features were fully as inscrutable as 


THORNYCROFT GRANGE. 


9 6 

he could make his own, on occasion. He seemed to have 
fully recovered his self-possession. 

Magdalen had been watching them closely, but with no 
particular result. She saw only that there was some secret 
understanding between these two men, and that each knew 
more than he pretended of the other’s doings. The answer 
which Earl had given the surgeon puzzled her more than a 
little. He had seemed to speak honestly and truthfully, and 
yet she had reasons for being fully convinced that he had 
known the deceased. Could he have meant that Mr. Hard- 
ing had also known her ? It seemed very improbable. 


CHAPTER XIII. 

THE MYSTERIOUS LETTER. 

Earl Devonshire and the young laides were preparing 
to depart, when Dr. Rynd came hurrying in. 

“ Oh, you are here yet ? ” he cried. “Iam glad. I 
was really afraid you would be gone, as I was kept away 
longer than I had anticipated. Ah, good-morning, Mr. 
Harding. So you have managed to make your appearance, 
also?” 

“Yes. I thought I might be of some use. My profess- 
sion is not so driving as to keep me very busy, you know, 
and I could come over as well as not.” 

“ Yes, yes. I’m glad you are here.” 

Mr. Harding stood leaning against the back of the chair 
in which Magdalen had seated herself, at the entrance of 
Dr. Rynd. The expression of his face was anxious, de- 
spite every effort. He was uneasily tapping the carpet with 
his boot. 

“ Mr. Devonshire did not know the deceased,” he said, 


THORNYCROFT GRANGE. 


97 


suddenly. “Dame Alden must have been mistaken. It 
will be a pity if her friends are not discovered soon. Have 
her effects been searched ? ’ * 

His tone was feverishly impatient, though he had made 
every effort to have it sound natural and unconcerned. 

“Yes,” Dr. Rynd replied. “ That was done this morn- 
ing. You should have come over.” 

“ What discoveries were made ? ” he asked, quickly, his 
face blanching. 

“None, so far as her trunk was concerned. I think she 
meant to preserve her incognito, when she came here. 
Every letter, and every scrap of paper that would have 
thrown the least light upon the subject had been carefully 
destroyed. We could not find the slightest clue to her 
friends, or her place of residence. From the contents of 
the trunk alone, we cannot even tell whether Grant was her 
true name or not, for her clothing* is not marked, with the 
exception of a lace pocket-handkerchief, which bears the 
initials E. D. But these might have been her own initials, 
or those of somebody else, as the handkerchief is an old 
one.” 

The surgeon breathed a sigh of evident relief. Earl, who 
had been listening intently, changed countenance at the men- 
tion of the initials, and a look of bitter grief crossed his 
face. It was soon gone, however, and he quietly stepped 
forward. 

“When you entered, I was just about to take Miss In- 
gestre and Miss Duprez back to the Grange,” he said, ad- 
dressing Dr. Rynd. “Do you desire to see me particu- 
larly ? ” 

‘ ‘ I only wished to hear your opinion on a matter con- 
nected with the deceased. I will detain you but a moment, 
if the young ladies will permit me to keep you at all,” he 
said, bowing low to Maud and Magdalen. 

7 


9 8 


THORNYCROFT GRANGE. 


“ Certainly ,” returned the latter, anxious to hear what 
was coming. “ We are not in such haste that we cannot 
wait a reasonable length of time, I hope.” 

“ Thank you. Then I will proceed at once with what I 
have to say. As I remarked to you before, Mr. Devon- 
shire, those who searched Mrs Grant’s effects found no clue 
to her friends or former residence ? ” 

“Well?” 

1 1 But there was the fragment of a letter of which I told 
you, discovered afterward. Mrs. Jones found it under the 
pillow not more than an hour since. It seemed to have 
been hastily crumpled- up and thrust there. The bed had 
not been made since yesterday morning, and that is why it 
was not found sooner.” 

At the mention of a letter, Mr. Harding appeared 
startled, and even Earl looked anxious and ill at ease. 
However, Dr. Rynd soon produced it, handing it to Earl 
for him to read. His fingers trembled nervously as they 
closed over it, and he took it to the window, standing with 
his back toward those in the room, so that no one could 
see his face as he perused it. 

He kept the sheet for some moments, and must have 
read it more than once. Finally he turned, and gave it to 
Mr. Harding without a word. It went the circuit of the 
room in this way, and at last came to Magdalen, who had 
been waiting with feverish impatience for a peep at its con- 
tents. 

From the first, she was struck with something 
strangely familiar in the style of penmanship. She had 
seen that peculiar hand before, and lately, she was sure ; 
but where, she was utterly unable to tell. The note was 
short, and had evidently been written in haste, and had 
been broken off abruptly. There was a great blot upon the 
page, and it had probably been abandoned on that account, 


THORNYCROFT GRANGE. 99 

and another sheet substituted. These are the words which 
it contained : 

“ My Dear Husband : — You will be very angry with me for com- 
ing here, I am afraid. But how could I help it ? I had not seen you 
for such a long while ! My heart was aching to be with you once 
again. I learned that you were here by the merest accident. I 
could not wait for you to write or come — I had waited too long al- 
ready. 1 followed you ! If it seems silly and foolish for me to have 
come, you must remember that I had been famishing for the sight of 
your face or the sound of your voice, for more months than I should 
dare to count — that I love you still, and always shall love you, even 
though you have not been so kind to me at times as you might have 
been, and have left me all these weary weeks, to grow sick with pain 
and misery, and mayhap to die. Yes, I love you still, and have come 
to you. I will do anything that you ask, now. You shall learn the 
true history of my birth — it was very foolish for me to have kept it 
from you at all. It was only my pride and obstinacy that caused me 
to do it. I am not the poor country school-teacher that you imagined 
me to be, but the daughter of — well, I will not tell you until you will 
come when you receive these lines. I am really sick, at last, and 
must have you by me. Do come, if it is only for a moment. I am 
here under an assumed name. Nobody knows that I am your wife, 
or anything to you, and nobody shall know it, if you do not wish me 
to tell. I am at the Washington House, dear ” 

Here it ended suddenly with that great, evil looking blot 
of which we have spoken. A proper name was about to be 
written, and even the first letter had been formed, but the 
ink had spattered the paper so it was impossible to make 
out just what it was meant to be. It looked some like an 
L, but more like an E or C. 

It was a strange letter, or rather a part of a letter. 
Magdalen could not comprehend it. A dim suspicion, as 
improbable as dreadful, caused her to catch her breath, and 
turn sick with fear. 

“No, no ! It cannot be,” she whispered to herself, in 
real agony. “Earl Devonshire could not have been guilty 




100 


TH0RNYCR0FT GRANGE. 


of such a deed ! It would have been more like Leonard 
Harding or myself ! We are wicked and desperate enough 
for anything ! But Earl is a grand, noble-souled man, if 
ever one lived ! He never would stoop to crime.” 

But an exclamation from Dame Alden recalled her to 
herself. She had given the letter to the good landlady, 
after having perused it, and Dame Alden now read it for 
the first time. Even Mrs. Jones, who found it, had been igno- 
rant of its contents until now. She had given it directly 
to Dr. Rynd, when she had taken it from under the pillow. 

“ Lawks !” cried the good dame, “if it don’t grow 
queerer and queerer, every minute ! What’ll my Joshua 
say to this, I wonder? To think that the woman had a 
husband she had come to see, and should tell me with her 
own lips that she hadn’t any relations here ! It do beat 
all! I wonder who her husband was ? It couldn’t have 
been Charles Grant, or his brother Gideon, for they’ve 
both of ’em got wives, and then they belongs to the Pres- 
byterian church, too ! ” 

Dr. Rynd smiled. 

“ She probably told her that she had no relatives here by 
the name of Grant, which was most likely true, for that 
was not her own real name, according to this letter,” he 
said. 

“ Lawks ! There are queer goin’s on, in this ere world. 
But I recommember now that she spoke of her better-half 
jest afore she died. I didn’t more’nhalf catch the words, 
but he must have been a graceless chap, forgivin’ him 
and all that ! ” 

Dr. Rynd took very little notice of this remark, but now 
turned to Earl Devonshire. 

This letter, as I told you, has been discovered since I 
wrote you, early this morning/’ he said. “ It is our only 
clue to the mystery of that woman’s past, who is now lying 


THORNYCROFT GRANGE. 


IOI 


there so cold and still. No one but myself has read it 
until now. I wanted your opinion, Devonshire. Your 
judgment is better than that of most men. How shall we 
proceed in this case? ” 

“ Do not ask me. I am not capable of advising,” 
Earl returned, speaking with difficulty. “I believe I am 
not quite well to-day. At any rate, this shocking affair has 
unnerved me strangely.” 

“ No wonder. I ought not to have distressed you with 
further particulars, but this letter throws so much additional 
mystery over the whole affair that I could not resist telling 
you about it, hoping that you might help me in getting at 
the truth.” 

“ According to this letter, the woman’s husband must be 
living at Linden-Car,” said Mr. Harding. “Who is he, 
and why does he not present himself at once, and claim 
the body. 

“That is easily answered, according to my view of the 
matter,” returned the physician. “ Her husband is prob- 
ably the murderer. He "stole into the inn, unknown to any 
one, and dropped the poison in the cordial. He must have 
had some very potent reason for wishing her out of the 
way.” 

“It is unutterably horrible, but I think you must be 
right. I hope no effort will be spared in detecting the 
wretch, and bringing him to punishment. Dr. Andrews 
will be glad for the discovery of this letter. It will help 
throw the burden of the deed from off his shoulders.” 

“Yes, that it will,” speaking heartily. “Dr. Andrews 
was never considered a careless or an unprincipled man, and 
people must take care how they insinuate things against him 
in my presence ! ” 

Earl Devonshire had been restlessly pacing the floor for 


102 


TH0RNYCR0FT GRANGE. 


some moments, his arms folded, his brow moody. He now 
turned to Dr. Rynd. 

“I will go at once, if this is all you have so say. I 
am not in a frame of mind to counsel with you to-day. My 
judgment would be worthless, and I should only trouble and 
perplex you. You will do much better without me.” 

“I doubt that, my dear Devonshire. But I have al- 
ready kept the ladies waiting an unconscionably long time. 

I hope they will be magnanimous and forgive me. I will 
excuse you, for their sakes.” 

They thanked him, and at once arose to go. Both felt 
bewildered by what they had seen and heard, and longed 
to get away, where they could think the matter over more 
quietly. Maud gave Earl her hand, that he might lead her 
down-stairs, but Magdalen drew back a little, motioning for 
them to precede her. 

. She followed them into the passage, and would have kept 
on, but Mr. Harding came quickly up behind her, catch- 
ing at her dress. 

“One moment, Magdalen,” he whispered, hurriedly. 
“ This is not the first time you have looked on that dead 
woman’s face, in yonder. I saw it in your eyes, as you 
bent over her. Now tell me where you have seen her. ’ ’ 

He seemed eager and excited, his breath coming in short, 
panting gasps. Magdalen drew away from him a little 
haughtily. 

“ What right have you to come to catechise me? ” she 
asked. “ If I had ever known Mrs. Grant, or the woman 
who went by that name, why should I not have acknowl- 
edged it in the room yonder, when we were all talking of 
her?” 

“ Do not put me off in this way, Magdalen,” he en- 
treated. “You know that we are sworn allies. How can 


THORNYCROFT GRANGE. 


103 

we hope to help each other, unless there is perfect confi- 
dence between us ? ” 

She paused, hesitating, deliberating with herself. 

“Can I trust you, Leonard Harding?” she asked fin- 
ally. “ What assurance have I that you will not make use 
of what I say, against me, or against those I love? ” 

“ What assurance can you wish further than the knowl- 
edge that I am as much in your power as you are in mine? 
There ought to be some honor among rogues.” And he 
laughed, sarcastically. 

She looked him fully in the face for a moment. 

“ I will tell you,” she said, at last. “ You will hardly 
dare betray my trust. I do not think I have ever seen the 
woman herself, but I saw her picture once. Earl Devon- 
shire had it. It dropped from his pocket when he came to 
call on me once.” 

The surgeon uttered an exclamation. A look of puzzled 
surprise came upon his face. “Strange — strange !” he 
muttered to himself, absently. Finally he turned to Mag- 
dalen. 

“ Did you ask him to tell you the name of the original of 
the picture? ” he inquired. 

“ Of course. I was too curious not to do that. But he 
put me off laughingly, trying to convince me that the pic- 
ture was the property of some friend, and had accidentally 
found its way into his pocket. I never credited his expla- 
nation, though.” 

Mr. Harding was silent a moment, evidently debating 
some question in his own mind. 

“No, he was deceiving you,” he finally exclaimed, with 
considerable vehemence. “You must have remarked his 
manner when he first beheld the corpse in yonder ! It is 
evident that he had known that woman, and known her in- 


104 


THQRNYCROFT GRANGE. 


timately. I will tell you what is my firm belief— that yon- 
der woman was his wife, and that he murdered her ! ” 

Magdalen turned upon him suddenly, her hands clenched, 
her eyes fairly scintillant with anger. 

“ Leonard Harding ! ” she cried, in a fierce, passionate 
voice, “ breathe that dreadful suspicion but once again, and 
I shall be tempted to strike you dead ! I scorn such a 
calumny. It is at your peril if you even hint it to another 
living being I ” 

She seemed in terrible earnest. He laughed uneasily, 
for he saw what he should have to contend with. For the 
time being, he thought it best to conciliate her. 

‘ ‘ Pshaw, Magdalen ! can you not listen to a harmless 
joke ? Of course, I do not consider Devonshire such a vil- 
lain. I only meant to try you, and to pave the way for 
something further which I have to say to you.” 

“ Well ? ” She did not attempt to dispute his explana- 
tion, though evidently not crediting it at all. 

. “What I have to say is, that this is the very opportunity 
for which we have been wishing. We have set ourselves 
about one special purpose, the estrangement of Earl and 
Maud. We must make her believe that Earl really com- 
mitted the deed ! That he murdered Mrs. Grant. I think 
we can do it. There is considerable circumstantial evi- 
dence against him.” 

“ And yet you know that he is as innocent of the crime 
as I am, Leonard Harding,” she said, looking him straight 
in the face. 

He seemed confused under her steady gaze, but very soon 
rallied himself. 

“What does it matter?” he finally returned. “We 
must try some desperate means, if we would hope to suc- 
ceed in our plans. It is Maud alone who must be made to 
believe Earl guilty. She loves him too well to betray him. 


THORNYCROFT GRANGE. 


105 


I think we can succeed in impressing the conviction on her 
mind, and it need go no further. She would be loath to 
believe it, but would be forced to, with the proper amount 
of evidence. And I am sure I can furnish that. Believing 
him guilty, she would never marry him. In that case the 
prospect would look more favorable for both of us, you 
see.” 

Magdalen caught eagerly at the idea. It did seem feasi- 
ble. As he had said, they must resort to some desperate 
expedient, and no other plan seemed to suggest itself just 
then. Anything was better than to see Maud and Earl to- 
gether as much as she had done of late. 

“And if I consent to assist you in this matter,” she said, 
after a pause, “ I have your promise that not even a whisper 
from you to any other than Maud, shall ever sully Earl’s 
fair fame? ” 

“ Most assuredly. I have no wish to work him ill. It is 
only Maud’s love that I am striving for. You will help me 
carry out my plan ? ’ ’ 

“ Perhaps so. I will think of it. But no more now — I 
cannot remain a moment longer. Maud is calling for me 
already.” 

She turned from him, and hastily descended the stairs, 
pushing her way through the crowd about the door, who 
fell back a little to let her pass. She found Maud already 
in her saddle, while Earl was holding her own “ bonnie 
steed.” 

“ Have you quite lost your patience, waiting for me?” 
she asked, gayly, as she prepared to mount her horse. 

“Nearly. What in the world kept you so long? We 
thought you were following close behind us,” replied 
Maud. 

“ I met a friend in the hall, and stopped to exchange a 


10 6 THORNYCROFT GRANGE . 

few words with him. I am sorry to have detained you so 
long.” 

‘•'It does not matter,” returned Earl, as he assisted her 
into the saddle. 

And so they rode back to Thornycroft Grange, slowly 
and silently. A weight was upon each of their hearts, that 
was soon to be lifted from them. 


CHAPTER XIV. 

SCHEMING. 

The coroner’s inquest on the body of Mrs. Grant, as we 
shall continue to call her, in lieu of a more correct name, 
took place on the following Friday. During the interim, 
no pains or effort was spared to discover the author of the 
crime that had been perpetrated, but not a clue to the mur- 
derer, or the object of the deed, further than the fragment 
of a letter which had been taken from under Mrs. Grant’s 
pillow, could be found. 

In the first place, public opinion had been strong against 
Dr. Andrews, as he had felt assured it would be. The 
general sentiment was that the woman had come to her 
death through his carelessness, and many were the anath- 
emas hurled at his head. But when the contents of the 
letter came to be known, an entirely new phase was put 
upon the matter. Persons who had begun to turn a cold 
shoulder on the good doctor, veered suddenly, like weather- 
cocks under the influence of a fresher breeze, and became 
his warmest partisans. Therefore, on the whole, instead of 
injuring his reputation as a practitioner, as he had at first 
been fearful, it had exactly the opposite effect, and he had 
become more popular than ever. 


THORNYCROFT GRANGE. 


107 


The inquest only served to strengthen his position. 
Dame Alden testified that the cordial had stood on a bureau 
in the ante-room, on that fatal afternoon, and that the' front 
door had been left open, thus offering free ingress or 
egress to any one who might feel disposed to take advan- 
tage of the opportunity, while she was in the kitchen her- 
self, busied with her cooking. Susan was on the back stoop 
most of the time, churning and working over the butter. 
Therefore, it was very possible that the poison had 
been introduced into the cordial by some one who had 
stolen in unobserved, though it still seemed strange that no 
one should have been seen loitering about the house. 

Furthermore, Mr. Read was there, prepared to prove 
that the cordial had been properly mixed by Dr. Andrews, 
though nothing was said concerning Earl Devonshire’s 
visit to his office. This was fully enough to convince the 
villagers, already more than willing to be prejudiced in his 
favor, of the physician’s entire innocence, both of careless- 
ness and malice aforethought, and fix the guilt on some 
third person. After due deliberation, the cononer’s jury 
returned the verdict : 

“ Died by poison ; but there is no evidence to show by 
whom administered.” 

Nevertheless, suspicion at once pointed to the person ad- 
dressed in the woman’s letter as “ husband.” No one else 
could have any possible object in committing the deed; 
while he, very likely, wished to remove her out of his way. 
The letter itself was enough to show that he had abused her 
shamefully, and probably deserted her. Perhaps he had 
tired of her, found some newer fancy, or even married a 
second time, and so administered poison under the mad fear 
of detection. 

However, at the best, people could only conjecture. The 
whole affair was wrapped in an impenetrable veil of mystery. 


io8 


THORNYCROFT GRANGE. 


Nothing certain was known by any one. A dozen different 
men were assailed by suspicion, but nothing could be 
proven against any one of them. At last it began to seem 
as if no light was destined ever to be thrown upon the 
affair. 

When preparations were being made for the funeral, Earl 
Devonshire came forward, and told the landlady to spare 
no expense in having the body of the unfortunate woman 
respectably interred, and to have all bills sent to me for 
settlement. He even appeared as a mourner at the funeral, 
and followed the body to the grave, giving no further ex- 
planation of his strange conduct than that “she was a 
stranger, and some one must perform these offices ; he pre- 
ferred doing them himself, rather than seeing them left un- 
done.” 

In another, these eccentric whims would have been much 
commented upon, and might have given ri§e to suspicion. 
But with Earl it was different. He had been regarded, 
from the first, as a peculiar man in his fancies, and now the 
villagers only said : 

“It is just like Earl Devonshire. There never lived a 
kinder or more tender hearted man. It was quite an acquisi- 
tion to Linder-Car, when he came among us.” 

Our hero had seemed very much depressed and ab- 

t ipted, since his visit to the Washington House that 
jrning, in company with Maud and Magdalen. Much of 
his old cheerful flow of spirits was gone, and he was ordin- 
arily grave and reticent, even in the company of his dearest 
friends, like a person brooding over some great wrong or 
terrible calamity. There had certainly come a remarkable 
change in his manner. Not that he was less tender or cor- 
dial toward those whom he loved, but he seemed con- 
stantly preoccupied by some all-absorbing thought. 

Maud observed this change with feelings of real regret 


THORNYCROFT GRANGE. 


109 


and solicitude. She was at a loss how to account for it. 
Though she had said but little, she had felt fully convinced 
in her own mind, that morning at the inn, that Earl was 
not looking upon the dead woman’s face for the first time. 
Otherwise, he would never have been so excessively agi- 
tated. The whole matter puzzled her exceedingly. She 
had hoped that Earl would offer some explanation, and so 
set her doubts forever at rest ; but, instead, he had pre- 
served the most complete silence upon the subject. This 
hurt her most of all. She felt, if he was in trouble, she 
had now a right to share it with him, and he ought to con- 
fide it to her. However, she never gave utterance to these 
feelings in words, not even to her mother. 

As for Earl, not even a whisper of suspicion was breathed 
against him, at first. Among the villagers at large, no one 
ever thought of connecting him with that horrible transac- 
tion at the Washington House. Leonard Harding noted 
this with considerable chagrin and annoyance. Despite his 
promise to Magdalen, he had all along secretly intended to 
turn the tide of suspicion against our hero, whenever he 
could do so without having his agency in the matter mis- 
trusted. At first, after his conversation with Mr. Read, on 
the evening of the commission of the deed, he had hoped 
that Doctor Andrews would have his suspicions awakened, 
and so institute inquiries that would tell effectually against 
Earl, but the worthy physician’s determined silence non- 
plussed him not a little, and left him at a disadvantage. 
He could not doubt that Mr. Read must have understood 
his meaning, when they had discussed the subject of the 
poisoned cordial, and if so, he would be sure to report the 
result of the conversation to the doctor. However, the 
latter had not stirred in the affair, as yet, but the surgeon 
inwardly determined that his silence should not last for- 


ever. 


IIO 


THORNYCROFT GRANGE . 


He resolved to strike the first blow with Maud. So far, 
he would be sure of Magdalen’s co-operation, and success 
seemed easy. He would be able, without doubt, to break 
up the intimacy which existed between her and Earl — an 
intimacy he could never look upon with any degree of 
calmness or reconciliation to it — and thus cause an estrange- 
ment between them. This would be at least an important 
step gained. 

However, it was not the easiest matter to gain access to 
Maud, she avoided him so persistently. At first, he tried 
calling upon her, but she never saw him alone, always 
bringing her mother or Aunt Barbara to the drawing-room 
with her, and keeping them there until he had gone. In 
this way, he found no opportunity to exchange a word in 
private with her, and it would have ruined his plan to have 
spoken before a third person. 

But fate seemed propitious, at last, after having toyed 
with him long enough. He was riding by the Grange one 
day, when he saw Maud in the garden, sitting under the 
shade of an old oak, and so busily engaged in the perusal of 
a book which lay open in her lap that she did not hear the 
noise his horse made in stepping lightly over the green 
sward beside the road. He dismounted hastily, throwing 
his bridal-rein over the nearest post, and approached her 
with rapid, though noiseless steps. He was close beside her 
before she saw him at all, or knew he was near. 

“Good morning, Miss Ingestre,” he called out, gayly. 
“You must be wonderfully interested in that book of yours, 
if you cannot look up to greet an old friend like me.” 

She started suddenly at the sound of his voice, raising 
her eyes to his face. 

“ I was not aware of you presence, Mr. Harding. That 
must be my excuse for not having addressed you sooner. 


THORNYCROFT GRANGE. 


Ill 

Will you walk to the house ? My mother and Miss Duprez 
will be glad to see you, no doubt.” 

“ Thank you, I prefer to remain here.” 

“ Then you will have to excuse me, I am afraid. My en- 
gagements take me elsewhere,” and she arose to depart. 

He quietly put out his hand to detain her. 

“ Do not go,” he said. “ At least remain long enough 
to tell me what is that wonderful book you have been read- 
ing,” and he smiled blandly in her face. 

“You can take the book, and see for yourself, if you 
choose,” she returned, resentfully, as she gave it to him. 

“ Ah ! Tennyson’s ‘ Princess.’ I was not aware that the 
English poet was such a favorite with you. The present 
volume seems to have been thumbed very faithfully. Ah, 
excuse me! ” with a gesture of deprecation. “I did not 
suspect it was Earl Devonshire’s property, until I this very 
moment saw his name on the fly-leaf.” 

She reddened indignantly. His manner angered and 
annoyed her more than she would have cared to confess. 

“ I asked him for it,” she said, “ and he fetched it over 
for me to read.” 

The surgeon was silent a moment, reflecting how he could 
best broach the subject which had brought him to her side. 
She once more attempted to pass him. 

“I cannot suffer you to go so soon, Maud,” he ex- 
claimed, stepping quickly before her. “ I have something 
that must be said to you. I have long been seeking a pri- 
vate interview, but for some reason, you have seemed determ- 
ined not to grant me one.” 

‘ < I have no secrets from my mother. Come up to the 
house, and I will listen to you. I have already remained 
here too long.” 

“You have misunderstood me, Maud. It was not for my 
sake that I wished our interview private, but for your 


I 12 


THORNYCROFT GRANGE . ' 


You would hardly care to have even Mrs. Ingestre hear what 
I am about to say.” 

Maud turned pale. A feeling of indefinable dread seized 
upon her. 

“ Say on,” she uttered, in a faint voice, leaning giddily 
against the trunk of the tree. “ I will listen.” 

“ You have decided wisely. No third person must ever 
know the purport of our conversation, unless you work ill 
to the man you love — to Earl Devonshire.” 

She shivered at the mention of that name. 

“ What have you to reveal ? ” she asked sharply. u Do 
not keep me in suspense, but come at once to the point.” 

u I must first impress one fact on your mind — that I am 
not now speaking to you in the character of a rejected 
suitor, with some object in view, but as a friend who feels a 
very warm interest in your welfare,” he said, with pre- 
tended earnestness. “ I ’wish you to utterly ignore the past, 
in our present conversation. I fully realize that you do not 
love me, and shall never persecute you with unwelcome at- 
tentions.” 

“I shall always prize your friendship, Mr. Harding, 
while I deprecate any warmer feeling. But what is it of 
Earl? Will you never tell me? ” 

She caught at his sleeve, lifting her anxious, entreating 
eyes to his face. 

“ I dread to tell you, Maud.” And he pityingly stroked 
the hand on his arm. “ It will be a great blow to you, and 
will make you very unhappy ; but it is best and right that 
you should know the truth.” 

u Then why do you hesitate ? If it is something I ought 
to know, that should be enough. If you think I have not 
strength to bear anything you may reveal, you utterly mis- 
take me.” 


THORN YCROFT GRANGE. 1 1 3 

She drew herself up with a pitiful attempt at perfect 
calmness and self-control. 

‘ ‘ I would gladly spare you, Miss Ingestre, but it would . 
be mistaken kindness to do so,” Mr. Harding said, with 
some effort. “ As I hinted once before, what I have to tell 
relates exclusively to Earl Devonshire ; but before I pro- 
ceed, I must ask you a single question. That morning 
when you visited the Washington House, with him and 
Miss Duprez, did you not observe, from his manner, that 
he knew more of Mrs. Grant that he was willing to have 
suspected ? ” 

“ Well? ” Maud’s voice was very faint, though she was 
too proud to make any other sign of assent than the utter- 
ance of this single word. But her. heart began to fail her; 
he, too, had noticed Earl’s agitation. There must indeed 
have been more cause for it than she had thought, then ! 

“ You also read the letter which was found under Mrs. 
Grant’s pillow, for I saw you take it in your hand. That 
letter was directed to the woman’s husband. Now, mark 
my words ! it is my firm belief that it was intended for Mr. 
Devonshire himself! ” 

The last sentence was uttered in a whisper that was al- 
most a hiss. Maud caught her breath with a low, shiv- 
ering cry. She could not even pretend to misunderstand 
his terrible meaning. 

“Just Heaven ! Do you expect me to believe your base 
insinuations, Leonard Harding?” she exclaimed, rallying 
herself at last. “I wonder that they do not blister your 
lips ! ” 

She faced him defiantly. He only regarded her with a 
sorrowful sigh, as if his heart was full of tender pity for her 
misery. 

“ I do not wonder that you turn from me, Maud. But, 
alas ! you have not even yet heard the worst. If Earl 
8 


M4 


THORNYCROFT GRANGE. 


Devonshire was that woman’s husband, he was also, in all 
probability, her murderer ! ” 

The girl suppressed a shriek. She lifted her eyes to 
his face for a single instant, with a look so full of woful 
horror and despair that even Mr. Harding’s heart was 
touched with real compassion. She sank back upon the 
seat from which she had risen, with a weary moan. 

“ What more have you to say ? ” she asked, in a strangely 
calm, even tone, after she had sat there for full three min- 
utes in utter silence. “ You even determined to exhaust 
the catalogue of crimes in heaping calumny upon a defence- 
less man. I pray you go on 1 I am listening.” 

The surgeon regarded her in real amazement. Was this 
cold, satirical woman the trembling, tearful Maud Ingestre 
of the moment before ? The change was something won- 
derful; it had revealed an element of strength in her char- 
acter that he had never previously supposed to exist. 

“This is all I have to tell,” he returned, in a pitying 
voice. ‘ 1 It has cost me an effort to say as much to you ; 
but I felt that you had a right to know of my suspicions. 
They will not be repeated to any one besides yourself, and 
you can act as you see fit. I do not expect you to act in 
reference to them any further than they are capable of being 
corroborated.” 

“ With what proofs can you furnish me?” 

‘ ‘ With very little that is not merely circumstance, I will 
. acknowledge. There is hardly a person, aside from myself, 
who thinks of suspecting him. But I cannot blind myself 
to some facts that have been thrown in my way. You were 
yourself a witness to his agitation at the sight of the corpse ; 
there was but little money found among Mrs. Grant’s ef- 
fects, and he took it upon himself to defray the funeral ex- 
penses. Most people regard this last as a simple act of char- 
ity, but it has a different appearance, in my eyes.” 


THORNYCROFT GRANGE. 


n$ 


“ We will suffer that matter to rest, if you please. He 
might have done it or might not ; he has always been kind 
to the poor. But if Mr. Devonshire were guilty of the 
crime with which you charge him, would he have taken 
Magdalen and myself to the inn, that morning ? Further- 
more, being prepared for the sight, would he have betrayed 
such agitation on beholding the dead woman’s face ? You 
must make your evidence consistent.” 

Maud spoke with the shrewd coolness of some lawyer, 
cross-questioning an important witness. Leonard Harding 
had never seen her more perfectly composed and mistress of 
herself than she had now become. 

“ Alas ! it is too consistent,” he returned. “ Mr. Devon- 
shire took you to the inn merely as a blind ; it was a very 
clever move on his part. As for his agitation, this was the 
first time he had looked on the woman’s face since her 
death, and not being utterly hardened, he was naturally 
much moved — his feelings overcame him, as he himself con- 
fessed, though pretending it was the result of physical 
pain. This, it strikes me, is the truth of the matter — the 
explanation I have given you.” 

Maud was silent, pondering his words. 

“ If that woman was his wife, what would he have made 
of me?” she asked, with an involuntary shudder. 

u Nay, I do not think he would have wronged you, in 
any event, for he loves you too dearly, I am sure of that. 
He would have found some means of freeing himself from • 
this woman, before marrying you. A divorce would have 
been the probable result ; but her coming here to Linden- 
Car expedited the matter until it ended in this horrible 
tragedy.” 

Maud covered her face with both hands. Her fortitude 
was fast giving way. 


1 1 6 - 


THORNYCROFT GRANGE. 


“ This is too dreadful to be believed ! ” she cried. “ I 
will not give a moment’s credence to such a story.” 

“But, for your own sake, do not entirely overlook the 
possible proofs of his guilt,” the surgeon urged, anxiously. 
“You heard of the evidence given in respecting the poi- 
soned cordial, by Doctor Andrews and Mr. Read, at the 
time of the inquest. Now I entreat that you will go to Dr. 
Andrews before it is too late, and ask him if Earl Devon- 
shire did not have that identical bottle of cordial in his 
hand, before it was even sent out of his office, and if he did 
not know at the time for whom it was intended. The phy- 
sician’s answer to such a question ought to settle the matter 
beyond a doubt. If he had an opportunity to introduce 
poison into the cordial, it is probable that he did so, and 
the whole guilt lies at his door.” 

Maud was silent. The awful aspect which the affair was 
taking seemed to stupefy her. 

“ I wish you would also speak with Miss Duprez,” Mr. 
Harding resumed. “ She is better acquainted with Mr. 
Devonshire’s past life than any of us. She did , not say as 
much, but I was confident, from her manner, that she rec- 
ognized something familiar in Mrs. Grant’s looks. If you 
press the matter, she will perhaps tell you what she knows.” 

Maud had already mentally resolved to do this. She had 
observed the peculiar expression which had crossed Magda- 
len’s face, and had heard her muttered exclamation, before 
this; but some ill-defined dread had hitherto restrained 
her. But the surgeon’s revelation now fully decided her as 
to her course. 

“I shall certainly try to get at the truth of the matter,” 
she said, rather wearily. 

“ I hope you will, for your own interest. And you must 
remember, Maud, it is because I am your true friend, I 
have told you this. I wished to shield you from future 


THORNYCROFT GRANGE. 


ii 7 

misery. But I will not detain you longer. I feel that I 
have done my duty in warning you — I cannot do more. 
God be with you, and help you to bear your troubles ! ” 

He wrung her hand hard, and turned hastily away, as if 
the scene was more than he could bear with composure. A 
moment afterward, and he was again upon his horse, and 
galloping down the road. Ah, what wicked dissemblers 
men can be ! Leonard Harding had tried to explain to 
Maud the mystery of that affair at the Washington House ; 
but he would have given his right hand, at that very mo- 
ment, to have known what connection Earl Devonshire had 
really had with it. 


CHAPTER XV. 

EVIDENCES OF GUILT. 

While Maud and the surgeon were holding their conver- 
sation in the garden, Magdalen Duprez sat by the window 
in her own room, her magnificent hair un astened, and 
drooping about her like a great veil of shining blackness. 
Susette was with her, brushing out the long, fragrant waves, 
and at the same time suffering her tongue to run much 
more nimbly than her fingers moved. 

From her window, Magdalen had seen Mr. Harding, 
when he dismounted and entered the garden gate ; she 
knew Maud was there, and therefore at once mistrusted the 
object of his errand, though the leafy branches of the oak 
under which Maud had been sitting effectually concealed 
them both from her view. However, she waited, with con- 
siderable impatience, the termination of the interview. 
She felt assured the surgeon would take advantage of this 
opportunity to charge Earl Devonshire with the murder of 


1 1 8 


THORNYCROFT GRANGE. 


Mrs. Grant, and if so, Maud would be likely to come to 
her at once, to learn what she could tell her of the woman’s 
history. 

The event proved the correctness of her conjectures. By. 
and-by she saw the surgeon leave the garden, and remount 
his horse, and shortly afterward Maud came slowly toward 
the house, her eyes downcast and thoughtful. Magdalen 
knew, even from the distance, that she was greatly troubled 
about something. 

“ Susette, I shall probably ask you to leave the room after 
Maud comes up,” she said. “ You are to go quite away, 
remember. I will have no eavesdropping, and you need 
not attempt it.” 

“ Of course not, mam’selle. But Miss Maud may not 
come up here.” 

“.Oh, yes, she will. And don’t forget to take yourself 
quite beyond hearing. If I catch you listening, now, I 
shall consider it my duty to tell Mrs. Ingestre what became 
of the bracelet and those gold eagles that she missed.” 

Susette turned pale. “ Don’t do that, mam’selle. You 
know I am ready to do just what you say always. If you 
tells me to go away, I goes away ; if you tells me to listen, 
why then I listens. I has no other wish than your own, 
Miss Magdalen.” 

“ That is sufficient. We understand each other, then.” 

Maud entered, just at that moment. Magdalen, though 
expecting to see her agitated, and perhaps in tears, was al- 
most frightened at the sight of her stony eyes, and the hard, 
stern look which had come upon her face. It was not such 
an expression as she had ever expected to see on Maud In- 
gestre’ s usually gentle and lovely face. She came in very 
quietly, sitting down in a vacant chair, just opposite to 
Magdalen. 


THOkNYCROFT GRANGE. 


1 19 

“ Can you send Susette away ? ” she asked, in a whisper, 
bending forward. “ I have a question to ask you.” 

Magdalen' nodded with a look of intelligence. Pretty 
soon she said : 

“ There, Susette, that will do. You may just put my 
hair up in a knot, and go now. I will have it dressed by- 
and-by.” 

Susette, having had her instructions beforehand, obeyed 
with alacrity, though she would gladly, have remained, had 
she dared to do so. 

“It is of Earl Devonshire that I wish to speak,” Maud 
began, abruptly, as the door closed behind the waiting- 
maid. “ You used to know him before you ever came to 
Thorny croft Grange.” 

“ Oh yes. I have told you so a great many times. We 
were very good friends, then* he was so kind and cordial to 
me.” 

“ I believe you know something of his history — more 
than ever you confided to me. I wish you would tell me 
all that you do know.” 

“ Why, Maud, how curious you have grown, all at once,” 
returned Magdalen, laughingly. “But I cannot conceive 
why you should come to me for such a purpose. Now that 
you and Earl are really engaged, I know of no reason why 
you should not solicit all necessary information from him.” 

“ It does not matter,” said Maud, with some impatience. 
“ You are not telling me what I wish to know.” 

“ For a very good reason, dear Maud. My knowledge 
of Mr. Devonshire’s past life is extremely limited, and you 
have heard all I have to tell, fully a score of times, al- 
ready”. 

“ You are certainly keeping back something,” she said. 
“ I must and will know it ! At least, answer me one ques- 
tion, Magdalen Duprez,” clutching almost fiercely at her 


120 


TH0RNYCR0FT GRAJVGF. 


arm. “Who was that woman who was poisoned at the 
Washington House, and what had Earl to do with her ? ” 
Magdalen started up, with a well-feigned exclamation of 
astonishment. 

“O Maud, what have you discovered?” she cried. 
“ Who has been telling you aught of her ? ” 

“ Was I not there to see for myself? From his manner 
alone, I discovered that Earl must have known the woman 
at some previous time. I saw that you, also, recognized 
her, and seemed to be looking to him for an explanation. 
Now, what is all this mystery ? I must find it out ! ” 
Magdalen was silent, at first. 

“ Perhaps I had better tell you the little I do know,” she 
finally said, with pretended reluctance. “I have kept it 
back, hitherto, because I though it would answer no espe- 
cial purpose to reveal it. I cannot tell you the woman’s 
name, nor anything about her. By accident, I once saw 
her picture in Mr. Devonshire’s possession. That was long 
enough before I ever came to Thornycroft Grange. The 
picture looked younger than did Mrs. Grant, but the face is 
a peculiar one, and I knew that I could not be mistaken.” 

“But the picture? ” Maud interrupted eagerly. “Did 
you not learn from whom it had been taken ? ’ ’ 

“ No. It had dropped accidently from his pocket and I 
had picked it up. He seemed much confused, I remem- 
ber, and would not suffer me to retain it half as long as I 
would have been glad to. Of course I questioned him 
about it ; but he pretended that it was the property of some 
friend, who had slipped it into his pocket to carry out a 
joke.” 

Maud’s expression became more helpless than before. 
Magdalen’s words were but confirming her worst fears, and 
strengthening her conviction in the truth of Leonard Hard- 
ing’s suspicions. 


THORNYCROFT GRANGE. 


121 


“What is your opinion ? You do not believe Earl’s ex- 
planation was the true one?” she asked, in a weary, de- 
spondent tone. 

* ‘ I must answer in the negative. That woman was cer- 
tainly a near relative, or a very dear friend. You mis- 
strusted as much as that, from his manner in the inn. I 
cannot understand why he does not explain the matter. 
But for some circumstances, I should really think the 
woman must have been a former sweetheart, or possibly a 
divorced wife ! ” 

Maud uttered a low cry. 

“ I cannot, will not believe it ! ” she exclaimed. 

“ Do you not remember the letter which was found ? It 
was written to the woman’s husband, and no one doubts 
that he was the murderer ! Do you not realize the position 
in which your suspicions are placing Earl Devonshire?” 

Magdalen covered her face with both hands. 

“ O Maud, Maud, I cannot help it ! ” she groaned. “The 
thought is killing me, but I am utterly unable to crush or 
thrust it from me ! I have loved Earl as a sister might 
have loved an only brother. He has been all that to me, 
so kind, so good and patient ! It distresses me beyond 
measure to be compelled to think ill of him ! ” 

Maud could not doubt the genuineness of her emotion. 
Her own face grew suddenly .hard and repellant, once 
more. 

“You have told me enough, Magdalen,” she said, in a 
low, quiet tone. “ I have no desire to hear more. The 
subject need not be broached between us again.” 

She turned away. Magdalen held out her hand, and 
seemed as if ready to mingle their tears and prayers to- 
gether. Somehow she could not feel very cordial or affec- 
tionate toward her companion, just then. She had reached 
the door, when Magdalen came quickly forward. 


122 


THORNYCROFT GRANGE. 


“ Remember, dear Maud, that this conversation must 
never be repeated, even to your mother,” she said, anx- 
iously. “ Otherwise, it might result in serious evil to Earl. 
We can keep our own secret — can and will ! I could never 
rest easy, thinking I had harmed my best friend. Our 
suspicions may be entirely groundless, after all.” 

“I am not a common newsmonger,” returned Maud, 
with some hauteur. “I can keep my own counsel, where 
it is for the interest of a friend so to do.” 

She slowly crossed over to her own room, carefully lock- 
ing the door as she went in. Once there, and her fortitude 
utterly gave way. She sank upon the nearest couch, sob- 
bing and moaning as if her very heart would break. It 
was the first rude shock that had ever startled her from 
young love’s dream, and the awakening was terrible. 

But her heart still plead strongly for Earl. It was so 
hard to believe him base and wicked — to give him up ! 
She never would have given the least credence to anything 
Leonard Harding and Magdalen might have said, had not 
her own senses helped to convince her that they might be 
correct. There was a mystery about her lover’s relation to 
the poisoned woman, and guilt is the usual accompaniment 
of mystery. However, she resolved to put the matter to 
one additional test. 

Accordingly, she carefully dressed herself, toward even- 
ing, and walked down to Linden-Car. She would not take 
the carriage, for she did not wish any one at the Grange to 
suspect her destination. Her object was to call upon Doc- 
tor Andrews, and get all the information she could from 
him.” 

She found the physician in, and, for a wonder, alone. 
He seemed somewhat surprised at seeing Maud, but politely 
invited her in, and placed for her a chair. 

“Pray what can I do for you, Miss Ingestre?” he 


THORNYCROFT GRANGE. 


123 


asked, with cordial affability. “ Is there any one sick at 
the Grange, or are you troubled with some provoking tooth 
that needs looking to ? ” 

“ We are all well, thank you, Doctor Andrews, and do 
not stand in need of your professional service.” 

The quiet, grave tone in which she spoke seemed to sur- 
prise the physician. He eyed her keenly. 

“ How can I serve you, then ?’’ he asked more seriously. 
“ I shall be very glad to do anything in my power.” 

She was touched by the kindness of his manner. She 
drew a little nearer, feeling that he would be her true 
friend. 

“ I wanted to ask you about — about — that shocking 
affair at the Washington House,” she began hesitatingly, 

Doctor Andrews now appeared really startled. “ Well ? ” 
was all the reply he made. 

“It was you that mixed the cordial that was sent to 
Mrs. Grant?” 

“Yes.” 

“I understand you have declared it was properly pre- 
pared, and that Mr.. Read has testified to the same thing. 
Now what I wish to ask is, whether any one else had 
access to the cordial before it was sent from your office ? 
Whether ” 

She paused in deep distress, utterly breaking down. She 
wrung her hands convulsively, fixing her imploring eyes 
upon Doctor Andrews’s face. He grew a shade paler, be- 
coming more and more puzzled and uneasy every moment. 
He paced once or twice across the office, apparently at a 
loss what to do or say. 

“ Tell me why you are so curious about this matter, and 
then I will answer your questions, Miss Ingestre,” he uttered, 
at last, pausing near her. “ Do not fear to confide in me. 
You can trust me as implicitly as the best friend you have.” 


124 


THORNYCROFT GRANGE. 


And she felt that she could— that he was worthy of her 
confidence. She lifted her eyes frankly, though very 
mournfully. 

“I will,” she said. “I am going to trust you with 
more than my own life — with the reputation of another, and 
even his personal safety, perhaps. My coming here con- 
* cerns Earl Devonshire. I wish to know if he was in your 
office while that cordial was here.” 

The physician hesitated a moment, a look of keen pain 
upon his face. 

“ He was,” he firmly said, slowly. 

“ Did he see the cordial, and know for whom it was in- 
tended ? ’ ’ 

“You are determined to force the truth from me — he 
did.” 

“ One question more,” and now her voice was sharp with 
pain. “Would it have been possible for Mr. Devonshire, 
during his call here, to have mixed poison with the cordial ? 
possible without having been detected by yourself or Mr. 
Read?” 

“ Good heavens, Miss Ingestre, will nothing but the 
whole truth satisfy you ? Must I answer your last ques- 
tion?” 

“ It is really necessary to my happiness that you should,” 
she returned, faintly. 

He did not speak for a short space of time. He seemed 
pondering the matter in his own mind. 

“ It may be best to tell you,”- he said, finally, looking at 
her with real compassion in his gaze. “ I have heard that 
you are to marry Earl Devonshire. If such is the case, 
you certainly ought to know the truth. Yes, he might have 
introduced poison into that cordial ; and I have often 
queried with myself whether he did or not, though I have 
always liked Devonshire, and so would not hint to any one 


THORNYCROFT GRANGE. 


125 


of my suspicion. I had been using some strychnia that af- 
ternoon, I remember, and had carelessly left a paper of it 
lying open on my table. The bottle of cordial stood near 
it when Devonshire came in. He had the cordial in his 
hand, I could swear to that ! He might easily have drop- 
ped a few grains of strychnia into it, though whether he 
did or not is a mere matter of conjecture. At this mo- 
ment, I would give half my fortune to be satisfied on that 
point.” 

Maud had listened with bated breath. Here was a con- 
firmation of her worst fears. But she did not shriek or 
faint. At first, she felt dizzy and weak, almost numb with 
pain and agony. There was brave, true metal in that girl’s 
character, and now it was 'manifesting itself. She might 
have grieved herself ill, had any misfortune that was not his 
own fault happened to her lover. But somehow, the thought 
of his baseness seemed to steel her heart against him, and 
her love was likely to die a speedy death, in all the haughty 
scorn which she felt for his wickedness. 

“It seems so strange, Miss Ingestre,” said Dr. Andrews, 
at last, almost awed by the cold, stern look upon her face. 
“ What should have led you to suspect Devonshire? I did 
not imagine the idea had ever occurred to more than one or 
two persons besides myself.” 

“There are various circumstances which I cannot ex- 
plain,” she answered ; “ but you have put the last doubt at 
rest. I now believe he is a guilty man ! ” 

“I fear so,” shaking his head. “I would rather ac- 
cuse my own brother. He must have been sorely tempted, 
or he would never have resorted to such a crime. But I do 
not consider it my duty to inform on him, under present 
circumstances. His own conscience will be punishment 
enough, for he is not one to commit crime with impunity. 


126 THOR A 7 YCROFT GRANGE . 

We had better keep our own counsel, had we not, Miss In- 
gestre ? ” 

Maud merely bowed. She thanked the good physician 
for his kindness, and very shortly took her leave. She was 
in no mood, just then, to endure even his sympathetic 
looks and words of comfort. 


CHAPTER XVI. 

A CLOUDED LIFE. 

The setting sun was just streaking the western sky with 
its crimson bars, as Maud, returning, walked slowly up to 
the Grange. 

She had nearly reached it, when she saw Earl Devonshire 
himself, waiting for her a short distance ahead. He came 
down the road to meet her, holding out his hand with a 
smile that was gravely tender. 

“I have been waiting for you, dear Maud,” said he, 

“ and am glad you have come at last.” 

She paused beside him, never seeming to notice his ex- _ 
tended hand. 

“What do you wish; Mr. Devonshire?” she asked, 
quietly, ‘ ‘ I hope you will make your communication brief, 
as I am in a hurry.” 

“ Maud ! ” 

There was a world of reproach in the tone in which 
he uttered her name. His earnest eyes sought her face 
with a look of amazement. He took a step or two nearer. 

“Maud, what is the matter? What has happened to 
trouble or vex you ? Do you know that you were hardly 
civil to me just now ? ” 

He tried to smile, but the attempt was a poor one. He 


THORNYCROFT GRANGE. 


127 


saw plainly from the expression of the girl’s face, that some- 
thing unusual had occurred. He tried to take her hand, but 
she resolutely kept it from him. 

“ What do you wish, Mr. Devonshire ?” she repeated. 
“ I canot linger long here.” 

He turned toward her with a look of keen pain upon his 
face. 

“What is the meaning of this coldness, Maud?” he 
asked, anxiously. “You are not like yourself, to-night. 
You surely have not ceased to love me?” 

“But I have, though,” she answered, meeting his gaze 
steadily. “ I doubt if I ever cared very much for you, else 
I should not find it so easy to cast your image from my 
heart ! Now, you are no more to me than any other mor- 
tal — indeed rather less than most, since I despise and scorn 
you more heartily than any other ! Go, now, our engage- 
ment is at an end ! I never wish to look upon your face 
again ! ” 

These were wild, foolish words, but they were wrung 
from her in the keen agony of the moment. 

“ There must be some cause for your singular conduct 
and vehement language,” Earl said, in a voice that was 
husky, despite every effort. “ Will you not explain your- 
self? ” 

“ What further need I say than that I have ceased to 
care for you ? We could never be happy together. There 
is another reason, though. Shall I tell it to you ? ” 

“Yes.” 

“You have tried to deceive me, for which I both detest 
and scorn you. I have discovered what that woman who 
was most foully poisoned at the Washington House, was to 
you ! ’ * 

His face grew white to the very lips. He turned from 
her with a groan. 


128 


THORNYCROFT GRANGE. 


“And you give me up for this!” he cried. “Oh, 
Maud, Maud, I had thought you loved me better ! Then 
we must indeed part ! God be with you, and forgive you 
as I do! ” 

He did not say another word. He only caught her 
hand, which she was powerless to prevent, and wrung it 
hard, a look of such misery upon his face as made her 
shiver. Then he walked rapidly away, leaving her there. 

She crept along the road, and up to the Grange, the most 
utterly desolate and wretched creature on the whole face of 
the globe — at least, so she thought. 

She tried to steal in unnoticed, but Aunt Barbara’s quick 
ear caught the sound of her step, and she threw open the 
parlor door suddenly, while the poor girl was crossing the 
hall. The parlor was lighted, and Mrs. Ingestre and Mag- 
dalen were there, as well as Miss Dean. The light flared 
broadly upon Maud’s shrinking form. 

“ Why, it is our White Rose, and alone, too,” Aunt Bar- 
bara exclaimed, in surprise. “Where is Mr. Devonshire? 
He went out to meet you only a short time since. Magda- 
len told him you had gone in the direction of the village. 
Did you not see him ? ” 

“ Yes. But he did not come on to the house with me. I 
think he has returned to Colonel Floyd’s.” 

Maud tried to steady her voice, but it sounded harsh and 
unnatural, despite every effort. 

“ How very strange ! I thought he meant to spend the 
evening, as usual. But come in, child. You have been 
loitering too long in the evening air, and have taken cold, 
I fear. You are really quite hoarse.” 

Maud attempted to escape up-stairs, but Aunt Barbara, 
in her solicitude, had taken a step or two nearer, and 
caught sight of the girl’s pallid face. 


THORNYCROFT GRANGE. 


129 

“ Mercy ! How white you are ! What is the matter ? 
Are you ill? ” 

Mrs. Ingestre now came out, looking anxious and un- 
easy. 

“ You are indeed very pale, dear Maud,” she said. “Do 
come in and lie down upon the sofa, and I will fetch you 
some tea.” 

Maud shook her head, breaking from them almost 
rudely. 

“ Oh, no,” she said. “It is only a pain that may soon 
wear away. I would much rather go up to my own room, 
where I can be quiet and entirely alone.” 

She found it very hard to get away, though, between her 
mother’s solicitude and Aunt Barbara’s officiousness. But 
she did succeed, at last, in reaching her chamber, and 
those listening below heard the key click in the lock. She 
was evidently determined to be let alone. 

“What can be the matter, I wonder?” said Mrs. In- 
gestre, returning to the parlor. “ Maud is very much 
troubled about something. I can see it in her face. It is 
not physical pain alone that distresses her so.” 

Magdalen, who had heard her remark, smiled very 
queerly, for she shrewdly suspected what had occurred. 
Aunt Barbara, looking at her suddenly, caught the smile, 
and the significant expression of her features. 

“You are at the bottom of this, Magdalen Duprez,” she 
exclaimed, regarding the girl suspiciously. “You have 
been at work at your despicable double-dealing ! There 
has been a quarrel between Earl and Maud, or he would 
surely have come back to the Grange with her. I could 
take my oath that it is all your fault ! ” 

Aunt Barbara’s eyes flashed indignantly, for she was 
pretty thoroughly aroused. Magdalen listened unmoved, 

9 


130 


TH0RNYCR0FT GRANGE . 


except the air of injured innocence that she put on. It 
was not best to be too resentful in Mrs. Ingestre’s presence. 

“ Why, Barbara, I am really shocked, said the latter 
lady, reprovingly. “ You ought not to attack Magdalen in 
that way — it is neither courteous nor proper. I am sure 
she had nothing to do with Maud’s trouble.” 

Aunt Barbara muttered something to the effect that she 
“was not so sure of that,” but very wisely suffered the 
conversation to drop there. She was feeling too anxious 
and worried about Maud to care, just then, to cross swords 
with her old enemy. 

Maud was more like herself the next day, though she 
went about with a white face and swollen eyes, and no one 
could help seeing but that she was feeling very miserable. 
But she wisely kept her own counsel, only saying once to 
her mother that she had “given Earl Devonshire up, be- 
cause she did not think they were by any means suited to 
each other.” Further than that, no amount of persuasion 
could induce her to disclose. Therefore Mrs. Ingestre and 
Aunt Barbara concluded that she and Earl had been hav- 
ing some idle quarrel, as all lovers do, and that they would 
be glad enough to make up again, after a day or two had 
passed in this way. 

Herein they were much mistaken. After a day or two 
had gone by, instead of seeing any signs of a reconcilia- 
tion between the two, matters seemed at a worse pass 
than ever, for the news came to the Grange that Earl had 
advertised the house he was building, for sale, and was 
going to start for New York the next day, probably not to 
return. 

Mrs. Ingestre and Aunt Barbara received the intelli- 
gence with real dismay and anxiety, they were so fearful 
of its effect upon Maud. But the young girl was really re- 
lieved. 


THORNYCROFT GRANGE. 


131 

As for Magdalen, she could have raved like a mad per- 
son, in her unavailing regret and fury. She had only 
meant to part Earl and Maud, and not to drive the man 
she loved so hopelessly, entirely from the place. It was 
better to see him as Maud’s lover, even, than not to see 
him at all. 

She put on her bonnet and shawl within an hour after 
she had heard the news, and went over to Col. Floyd’s. 
She was afraid Earl would go away without coming to the 
Grange to see her once more, and she was ready to risk 
anything rather than to have that happen. 

She stole softly along the garden-walks, keeping herself 
concealed from chance observation by the shrubbery, creep- 
ing along like some guilty creature, until she had come op- 
posite his windows. She watched her opportunity, and 
darted across the piazza, and into the room, through one 
of the low windows. 

“ O Earl ! ” she cried, “is it indeed true that you are 
going away — going to leave Linden-Car forever? ” 

She went close up to him, standing there eager and pant- 
ing. He started up with an exclamation of surprise. 

“ Why, Magdalen, is it you? ” he asked, with some dis- 
pleasure m his voice. “ How came you here? ” 

“I heard that you were going to leave us,” she an- 
swered, dropping her eyes in some confusion. “ I knew 
that you and Maud had quarrelled, and I was afraid you 
would not come to the Grange to bid us all good-by, and 
that I should not see you very soon again.” 

He looked at her rather curiously, a light breaking sud- 
denly over his face. 

“And so you have stolen in here like some culprit, 
Magdalen ! I am surprised at you. You are very unwise 
and imprudent.” 

“ O Earl, how could I help it? ” she cried, utterly giving 


132 


THORNYCROFT GRANGE. 


way to her emotions. “ I believe it made me mad to think 
you were going to leave me, that I might never look on 
your face again ! I forgot everything — prudence, womanly 
reserve, all — and only remembered how miserable I should 
be without you. Oh, do not go, Earl ! You have been so 
much to me in this past year or two ! I feel as if I could 
not give you up now ! ” 

She clasped her hands, lifting her pleading eyes to his 
face. 

“Hush, Magdalen!” he said, almost severely. “This 
is wild talk, and you will yourself be sorry for haying said 
so much. Go back directly, and as you came. You are 
not yourself to-day. When you are calmer, you will see 
the folly of what you have done. I am sorry, so sorry, 
that you should have been so weak.” 

There was only cold, stern reproof in his tone. She 
clasped her hands with a gesture of despair. She was 
about to speak once more, but just then there came a rap 
upon the door leading to the hall. 

Earl looked very much annoyed, but he made a gesture 
of caution to Magdalen, and opened it just far enough to 
see who was there. It was Aunt Barbara. She had been 
calling on Mrs. Col. Floyd, and had stopped at Earl’s door 
on her way out. Indeed that had been all her real object 
in coming over — to see Earl. 

“ Ah, good afternoon, Mr. Devonshire ! I am glad to see 
you ! ’’ she exclaimed, briskly. “ Mrs. Floyd just told me 
that you were in, and I could not withstand the tempta- 
tion of calling at your door. Besides, I heard that you 
were going away. It is not really so, is it, Mr. Devon- 
shire ? ” 

“It is,” he returned briefly, without further unclosing 
the door ; “I leave for New York early to-morrow morn- 
ing.” 


THORNYCROFT GRANGE. 


133 


“1 am sorry, very sorry. You must surely come over 
to the Grange before you go. We shall be glad to see 
you.’” 

“ Thank you, but I fear I cannot. My time will be pretty 
well occupied until I start.” 

“But you must come, though. I shall take no excuse. 
If we had not wished you to come, I should never have 
been at the trouble of calling to see you. You will ex- 
cuse the liberty, will you not?” laughingly. “ It cannot 
be improper for an old lady like me ! ” 

She changed her position just a trifle, enough so that she 
just then caught a glimpse of Magdalen’s dress through the 
hinges. A look of the most utter surprise crossed her face, 
and her expression changed almost instantly. 

“ Ah ! ” she uttered, in a sharp, significant tone. “ Well, 
good-by, Mr. Devonshire, if I do not see you again.” 

She turned away rather abruptly, without even offering to 
shake hands at parting. Her manner had altered so sud- 
denly that Earl could not doubt but that she had seen 
Magdalen. 

“ l am afraid you have worked irreparable injury to us 
both by your folly in coming here, Magdalen,” he said, 
with relentless bluntness. “ I am sure Miss Dean saw you, 
and, if so, she may put a very harsh construction on your 
conduct.” 

Magdalen looked humiliated, and utterly despondent. 

“I am sorry that I came,” she murmured, regretfully. 
“ I will go back at once, before any one else finds me here. 
But do not think too harshly of me, Earl. Remember you 
are the only friend I have. I should die if you were to 
desert me entirely.” 

“ You must go now, Magdalen,” he said, holding out his 
hand. “ I shall see you again ere many weeks, and will pro- 
vide a home for you, if you are not happy and contented 


1 34 


THORNYCROFT GRANGE. 


at the Grange. Just now I have a task before me, which 
my duty to the dead compels me to perform. When that is 
done, I shall come for you. Farewell, till that time shall 
arrive.” 

She closed her fingers over his, almost convulsively, and 
then, not daring to trust herself further, crept quickly back 
through the window, as she had entered, and was almost 
immediately lost to sight among the shrubbery in the gar- 
den. 

When she reached the Grange, she stole up to her own 
room, through one of the side doors, and did not descend 
until summoned to the tea-table, where she again met the 
members of the household. She expected to hear something 
of her visit, from Aunt Barbara, but that old lady only eyed 
her a little severely, as she entered the dining-room, and 
supped her tea in silence. 

Affairs often work queerly enough in this world. Our 
hero had hardly been gone a single week, ere Leonard Hard- 
ing had become a frequent and apparently welcome visitor 
at the Grange. He was cordially received, both by Mrs. 
Ingestre and Maud. By the latter, because of the service 
which she thought he had rendered her, in opening her 
eyes to Earl’s true character, and by the former, simply be- 
cause his visits seemed to afford her daughter pleasure. He 
seemed to have changed for the better, acting the part of a 
tender brother rather than a lover, toward Maud, and never 
persecuting her with unwelcome attentions, or even speak- 
ing of love. 

But this was not all. Earl had scarcely turned his back 
upon Linden-Car, ere the wildest and most scandalous re- 
ports hegan to be circulated against him. People began 
to whisper — slyly at first, but soon more openly — that he 
knew more of the “strange lady,” as Mrs. Grant was 
commonly designated by the villagers, than he would have 


THORNYCROFT GRANGE. 


135 

cared to tell. The whispers finally changed to direct accu- 
sations as the facts which we have narrated came gradually 
to light, until there was scarce a man, woman, or child, in 
all Linden-Car, who did not believe him guilty of poisoning 
the woman, and only his continued absence prevented 
people from demanding his arrest and trial. 

Magdalen watched this course of events with consider- 
able secret uneasiness. It troubled her not a little that 
Earl was falling into disrepute, and she was even fearful 
that the authorities would take measures to have him fol- 
lowed and taken charge of. She was utterly at a loss to 
determine by what means suspicion was at first excited 
against him in the public mind. She directly accused 
Leonard Harding more than once, but he most strenu- 
ously denied having had any agency in the matter, and as 
none of the reports could be traced to him, she was forced 
to believe his assertions. Had it been otherwise, she would 
have turned against him without a moment’s hesitation ; 
for with all her faults, Earl’s honor and good name were 
very precious to Magdalen’s heart, and not to be trifled 
with. 


CHAPTER XVII. 

THE SURGEON’S ASSISTANT. 

It was one of those hot, listless summer days, when even 
insects have a drowsiness in their continual drone and hum- 
ming. Leonard Harding sat in his office, lolling lazily 
back in a large arm-chair, a half-smile parting his thin lips. 
It was an unusually good-natured smile for him. He had 
just been visiting a patient in the country, and had called 
at the Grange on returning, and been received there with 


THORNYCROFT GRANGE. 


136 

unusual graciousness. In this fact lay the whole secret of 
his present good-humor. He thought that Maud was be- 
ginning to favor him more and more. 

The office door was wide open, and a man’s shadow sud- 
denly fell across the threshold. 

Following the shadow, came the most singular-looking 
man he had ever set eyes upon. A tall hat, encircled by a 
mourning-band of tarnished crape, surmounted his head. 
His face below the hat seemed to be that of a person of fifty 
or thereabouts — the eyebrows were gray and shaggy, his 
heavy unkempt beard of the same color, as was also the 
long hair which he wore brushed so smooth and sleek be- 
hind his ears. A pair of green goggles sat astride his nose, 
and nearly concealed a pair of eyes that would otherwise 
have given a keen and determined expression to the face. 
He was dressed throughout in a suit of solemn black, 
though his rusty coat was an inch too short at the waist, 
and the sleeves two or three inches shorter than the arms 
required. 

He must have noticed the look of quizzical amazement 
with which Mr. Harding regarded him, though he did not 
seem in the least discomposed, but came forward with con- 
siderable alacrity, carefully depositing the carpet-bag which 
he carried, in a chair, before he spoke. 

“ This is Mr. Harding? ” he began, in a guttural tone, 
lifting his tall hat with an awkward bow. 

The surgeon nodded. 

u I have heard of you, my dear sir; of course I have 
heard of you ! else why should I be here ? A man of mark 
cannot circumscribe his reputation to a given limit, if he 
would.” 

He laughed, a dry hack of a laugh, that would have 
made some people disagreeably nervous. 


THORNYCROFT GRANGE. 1 37 

“ Well, sir, what can I do for you ? ” asked Mr. Hard- 
ing. 

“ You are a surgeon and a chemist, my dear sir? ” 

“lam.” 

“ So I have understood. You have chosen noble call- 
ings, and those befitting an elevated and refined soul, my 
dear sir. Surgery is very good to know, but chemistry, sir, 
chemistry ! there is the science to make one great and 
famous ! There’s nothing like it — it is truly wonderful ! 
Even the gods might envy a man who is a perfect master of 
the great science of chemistry ! ” 

“You know something of it?” asked Mr. Harding, 
seemingly. 

“ I am only an amateur. But I mean to be something 
more, my dear sir. You may say it is late in life to make 
a beginning, but it will be food and meat and drink to me. 
I only wish that I had been led to the exhaustless fountain 
of chemical analysis, at an earlier age. I might have made 
myself famous ere this — yes, famous, my dear sir ! ” 

“ You are quite an enthusiast.” 

‘ r Who can wonder, when such a limitless field of re- 
search is opening before me ! It is a rapturous thought ! 
You must help me — must teach me ! Say will you not? ” 
he exclaimed, pulling eagerly at the surgeon’s sleeve. 
“ Your office is a perfect paradise, with all these facilities 
for experimenting. Let me stay with you, my good sir. 
I can be of use to you in many ways. I do not ask pay — 
money is a dross, and as nothing, compared with the price- 
less knowledge which I seek.” 

It was a singular proposition, and at another time Mr. 
Harding would have ordered the man instantly from the 
room. But he was unusally good-natured this summer after- 
noon, as we have said, and therefore uncommonly gracious. 

“But, sir,” he returned, “ if you wish to become a mas- 


THORNYCROFT GRANGE . 


138 

ter of the science, you will find scores of institutions in the 
country, where you could learn much more than you would 
be able to here.” 

“ But, you could give me a start, my dear sir, and then 
I should be in a condition to go on by myself. Such a 
glorious science ! Just try me, sir ! I will be your servant, 
your slave. Only give me a chance to study my delight- 
ful science with you ? ” 

The surgeon took a moment for reflection. There seemed 
little risk in trying the man, he was so much in earnest. 
There were a thousand ways in which he could make him- 
self useful. 

He asked him a good many questions, even had him try 
two or three chemical experiments, to test the amount of 
his knowledge. Everything was satisfactory, and he soon 
determined to take this Gideon Wells, as the stranger 
called himself, for an assistant. 

‘ 1 Have you settled upon a lodging yet, Mr. Wells? ” he 
asked, when everything else had been arranged between 
them. 

“ I have not, my good sir. I considered that as a mat- 
ter of minor importance.” 

The surgeon smiled. 

“ Well, never mind,” he said. “I think my house- 
keeper can accommodate you with a room, if you prefer to 
remain here.” 

Mr. Wells seemed grateful for the privilege, and was re- 
iterating his thanks, when they were both startled by hear- 
ing the clang of the gate at the end of the walk. A lady 
was coming toward the office. Mr. Harding recognized 
her at once. It was Magdalen come to pay him a second 
visit. 

“ Go right in and get some dinner, Mr. Wells,” the sur- 
geon said, hastily. “You will feel better disposed for 


THORNYCROFT GRANGE . 


139 


work after a good meal. Tell Mrs. Brown that I sent you. 
This is the way, by that side door, and through the pas- 
sage. Take your time at the table. There is no need to 
hurry..” 

Mr. Wells caught up his carpet-bag and dodged out, 
with another of his awkward bows. But he paused at the 
passage-door, with his ear to the key-hole, quietly listening. 
Surely the surgeon had found a singular assistant. 

Meanwhile, Magdalen had entered the office. Mr. Hard- 
ing received her with a not over-pleasant expression upon 
his face. 

“ Why have you come to-day? ” he asked, rather coldly, 
as he placed her a chair. 

“ One would naturally conclude it was because I wished 
to see you,” she returned, with provoking indifference. 
“ What else could have caused me to take this long walk ? ” 

“ Well, what can I do for you ? ” 

“ In the first place, I wish to know how much you have 
told Maud concerning Earl Devonshire and that Mrs. 
Grant.” 

“How much have I told her? The whole truth, of 
course; that the woman called Mrs. Grant was Earl’s wife, 
and that he murdered her because he was determined to 
marry Miss Maud herself.” 

Gideon Wells, listening in the passage, had heard every 
word of this speech, and now started so violently that he 
came near betraying himself. 

“ I thought as much,” was Magdalen’s reply to what the 
surgeon had §aid. “ You also sent her to me to ask what 
I knew of Earl and the poisoned woman.” 

“Yes. I told you I should, you will remember ; or, 
rather, asked your help in deceiving her. I must have 
some way of convincing her that Devonshire was really 
guilty. That was before so many of the facts were gener- 


140 


TH0RNYCR0FT GRANGE. 


ally known. Doctor Andrews suspected that Earl might 
have put the^ strychnia into the cordial, while it was at his 
office, but at first he was too chicken-hearted to tell of it. 

I sent Miss Maud to him, however, for I knew she would 
get some information there.” 

“ Yes, she did call on him, though at the time I did not 
suspect whom she had gone to see. But the time has come 
when I ought to know the whole truth of this matter. I 
believe you can solve the mystery, if you will, Leonard 
Harding, and I ask you what was Earl’s real relation to 
Mrs. Grant ? There certainly was some connection be- 
tween them, but I cannot — will not believe that she was his 
wife, and he is guilty of her death? ” 

The surgeon turned pale. 

“ It is a disagreeable subject to converse upon,” he cried, 
hastily. “Let us say no more about it. I know some- 
thing of the truth, but I do most solemnly assure you that 
a part is as complete a mystery to myself as to you. I have 
vainly puzzled my brain over it.” 

Magdalen saw that he was really in earnest. It was some 
moments ere she spoke again. 

“I am very sorry that people are beginning to suspect 
Earl,” she said at last. “You must help me to clear his 
name from all reproach ; otherwise, I shall have nothing 
further to do with your schemes. I can depend upon 
you ?” 

She eyed him resolutely. He quailed under her steady 
gaze, and writhed uneasily. 

“Yes, Magdalen,” he returned, finally. “Help me to 
win Maud, and the very day that makes her my wife, I will 
put the proofs of Devonshire’s innocence into your hands. 
When Maud is once bound to me, it will be safe to let her 
know her former lover was not a guilty man ! ” 

“ You have the proofs, then? ” asked Magdalen, eagerly. 


THORNYCROFT GRANGE. 


141 

“ I did not say that,” smiling shrewdly ; “ but they are 
where I can make them available at any moment. I do not 
mind confessing so much to you.” 

t( Then, for Heaven’s sake, hurry your wooing with my 
dainty Maud ! I cannot endure this waiting ! You might 
as well strike while the iron is hot. Your charmer would 
marry you now, while smarting under a sense of Earl’s 
wickedness and injustice toward her, sooner than at any 
other time. I am sure there is no need for further delay. 
You have played the part of a disinterested friend to per- 
fection, and now I think she would be ready to listen to 
your suit.” 

The surgeon gave a start of glad surprise. 

“ I will act on your advice,” he said, with sudden eager- 
ness. “You are right; she will hardly refuse me now, 
after all I have done for her. I have paid too heavy a price 
to lose her. But I must go at my wooing moderately. I 
will write to her and to Mrs. Ingestre this very night. That 
will be a better course than to see them personally.” 

These two arch plotters had very much more to say to 
each other; but Gideon Wells appeared to have heard 
enough to suit his purpose, for he now stole softly away 
from the door, with a grim smile upon his lips, and went to 
order his dinner. 

When he returned to the office, an hour later, Mr. Hard- 
ing was alone, and busy in sorting over some papers in his 
private secretary, which stood at one end of the apartment. 
He seemed somewhat annoyed at his assistant’s sudden ap- 
pearance, and, in his confusion, dropped a letter from the 
bundle of documents which he held in one hand. Mr. 
Wells stepped briskly forward, and picked it up, giving it 
to the surgeon. The face of the latter blanched, in spite 
of every effort, as he took it, for it was the letter which 
Jake had brought in to him on that memorable Tuesday 


142 


THORNYCROFT GRANGE. 


afternoon, when Magdalen Duprez had visited his office for 
the first time. 

Was it the result of his guilty fears, or did he indeed 
hear a smothered exclamation from Mr. Wells, as he picked 
up the letter? He turned, eyeing him keenly, but his as- 
sistant had already taken up a scientific treatise which lay 
on the table, and only seemed bent on mastering its con- 
tents. 

Several times after that, he found himself carefully scru- 
tinizing Mr. Wells’ face and figure, as if something about 
one or the other had suddenly struck him as being familiar. 
Could it' be possible that he had ever seen him, previous to 
his coming there that day ? It seemed very unlikely, as 
his was a physiognomy one would not be apt to forget, or 
find difficulty in locating. 

However, Mr. Harding did not have long in which to 
revolve these thoughts in his mind, for he was soon called 
out to attend a patient. He left Mr. Wells in the office, 
telling him to make himself at home, and as comfortable as 
might be, seeing it was his first day there. The new as- 
sistant assured him that he should do so, declaring nothing 
would suit him better than to be left to “ delve in the sci- 
entific truths of the treatise which he had found.” 

However, the door had hardly closed upon the surgeon, 
ere this enthusiastic chemist had crossed the room to the 
secretary, and was busy in stealthily taking impressions of 
the locks in some soft wax, with which he seemed to have 
purposely provided himself. Verily, Mr. Harding would 
not have been overmuch pleased, could he have seen his 
worthy assistant just then ! 

Later, near evening, he set out as if for a purposeless 
walk, but went directly to the office of Dr. Andrews, when 
sure that no one was watching his movements. At first, 
the physician received him as an utter stranger ; but a few 


THORNYCROFT GRANGE. 


143 


whispered words on Mr. Wells’ part called forth an excla- 
mation^ unbounded surprise from the good doctor, and 
the two retired to a room where they.could converse with- 
out any risk of being surprised or overheard. 

When they came out, after the lapse of half an hour, 
Doctor Andrews looked happier than he_had done for many 
a day. He shook hands with Mr. Wells at parting, say- 
ing, earnestly : 

“ May God bless and help you, my friend ! ” 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

THE BEGINNING OF THE END. 

Mr. Harding was not one to hesitate long, having once 
made up his mind to a particular course of action. There- 
fore, late in the evening of the same day of Magdalen’s 
visit, having dismissed Mr. Wells and black Jake for the 
night, he set about composing the two epistles which were 
to inform Maud and Mrs. Ingestre that he had not, as yet, 
relinquished all hopes of securing the hand of the former. 

They were not sent over to the Grange until the next 
day. Mrs. Ingestre, Aunt Barbara, and Maud, were all in 
the dressing-room of the former. Magdalen had heard 
them go in some time before. She determined to know in 
what manner the letters were received, and so, after a few 
moments, stole across the hall, and into one of the spare 
chambers which communicated with Mrs. Ingestre’s room 
through a small closet. 

They had apparently just finished the perusal of the let- 
ters, for Mrs. Ingestre was saying, in the tenderest and 
most solicitous of tones : 


144 


THORNYCROFT GRANGE. 


“ I think I can guess the tenor of the letter which you 
have just received, dear Maud. It is from Mr. Harding.” 

“Yes, mamma,” returned the young girl. 

“ He has renewed his propositions for your hand. Such 
haste seems almost indecorous, but he pleads his cause in 
such a humble, deprecating way, that I am inclined to over- 
look it. What have you to say to his suit, my daughter ? ” 

“I have no love to give him, mamma,” her tone very 
sad. “ I like him much better as a friend than a suitor.” 

“Poor child ! I do not doubt it. But your happiness 
is all I seek. Mr. Harding has been a good friend to you, 
of late, and has shown himself a really generous and noble 
man. But you must answer him according to the dictates 
of your own heart.” 

“I admire him much more than I did at one time ; but 
I do not think I will ever marry. No new love can ever' 
spring out of the ashes of the old.” 

“It is very foolish of you to say that, child,” exclaimed 
Aunt Barbara, now making herself heard. “ You ought 
not to close your heart against the tender passion, just 
because one lover has been proven a villian. Though, for 
my part, I can’t say that I believe Leonard Harding is a 
whit better man than Earl Devonshire. Magdelen Duprez 
had them both under her thumb, according to my view of 
the case.” 

“ What do you mean, Barbara?” asked Mrs. Ingestre, in 
some surprise. 

“Just what I say. I have not been blind to all the 
winks, and blinks, and nods that have passed between her 
and Leonard Harding, if you have. I tell you there is 
some secret understanding between those two. Only 
yesterday afternoon I saw her stealing into his office as 
slyly as any thief ! She went there for no good purpose, I 
can tell you that.” 


THORNYCROFT GRANGE. 


145 

“I think you misjudge Magdalen. You do not like her, 
and therefore put the worst possible construction upon her 
actions.” 

“ No, I do not like her, and have always told you so. 
You have been nourishing a viper ever since she came here. 
She has already stung our poor Maud nearly to death, and 
there is no telling where she will stop short of her wicked- 
ness. Somehow, I think there would have been no trouble 
but for her. I have never told you before, but she visited 
Earl, secretly, in his room, the day before he left Linden- 
Car. No respectable young lady would ever have been 
guilty of such folly. I was over to Colonel Floyd’s, and 
saw her there.” 

Magdalen waited eagerly for Mrs. Ingestre’s reply, but 
there was an interruption to the conversation just then. A 
servant came to say that Dr. Andrews was in the library, and 
wished a private interview with the mistress of the Grange. 

When Mrs. Ingestre re-entered her dressing-room, half 
an hour later, her countenance was fairly radiant with 
pleasure. 

“ My darling Maud, Doctor Andrews’s opportune visit has 
spared us a present decision in Mr. Harding’s case. With 
your consent, I will answer both his letters. I am going to 
invite him here to-morrow night, when matters may be ar- 
ranged as our best jungment shall indicate.” 

She sat down to her writing-desk, dashing off a few hasty 
lines ; then, after looking them carefully over, she read 
aloud as follows : 

“ Mr. Harding : — Your letters have been received, and duly con- 
sidered. In a matter of such importance, we require time for careful 
deliberation. Will you call at Thornycroft Grange to-morrow even- 
ing, at seven o’clock, and learn our decision 7 

Respectfully, 

E. Ingestre.” 


10 


4 6 


THORNYCROFT GRANGE. 


“Mamma,” exclaimed Maud, as her mother finished 
reading, “ you surely have not meant to give him any en- 
couragement ? ’ ’ 

Mrs. Ingestre smiled rather queerly, but would answer no 
questions. Therefore Magdalen was compelled to go back 
to her room without having learned anything further. 


CHAPTER XIX. 

ALL THINGS MADE CLEAR. 

The listless hours of the long summer’s day that followed 
dragged slowly enough; but when seven o’clock came 
around, Leonard Harding was punctual to the moment, 
and stood on the steps at Thornycroft Grange, dressed with 
the most fastidious care. He was immediately ushered into 
the well-lighted drawing-room, where, to his surprise and 
secret uneasiness, he found quite a motley group already 
assembled. 

Mrs. Ingestre stood near the door, to receive him ; Maud 
and Aunt Barbara were a little further along, while Mag- 
dalen was crouching near one of the windows, glancing 
about her with an anxious, half-scared look in her eyes, as 
if fearful of coming trouble. 

Doctor Andrews was there, bland and smiling, as if en- 
joying himself quite hugely. Doctor Rynd was also pres- 
ent, as was Mr. Read, Mr. and Mrs. Colonel Floyd, Dame 
Alden and her husband, and Mr. Deacon Jones. Every 
countenance wore a slightly puzzled expression, with the 
exception of Dr. Andrews’ and Mrs. Ingestre’s. 

The surgeon was secretly uneasy, but he seemed determ- 
ined to put a bold face upon the matter, for he came for- 
ward, outwardly calm and composed, after the first start of 


THORNYCROFT GRANGE . 


14 7 

surprise, greeting those about him with cool, affable assur- 
ance. 

He had barely found a seat, when the door-bell again 
sounded, and this time who should be admitted but Mr. 
Gideon Wells. He came forward, bowing to Mrs. Inges- 
tre after his awkward fashion. Mr. Harding could not 
quite repress his surprise, but jumped suddenly to his feet 
catching his assistant by the arm, as he approached. 

“Why are you here, Mr. Wells?” he asked excitedly. 
“ Have any of my patients sent for me? ” 

“No one, my dear sir,” returned the assistant quietly. 

‘ 1 1 came because our worthy hostess was so very kind as to 
send me an invitation. I do not mind leaving my beloved 
chemicals for one evening, you know.” 

At this moment, Doctor Andrews stepped toward the 
centre of the room, and suddenly spoke, .addressing those 
assembled. 

“ My friends,” he began, “ I see plainly from your faces, 
how surprised you all are at having been summoned here in 
this way. But it was at my suggestion that Mrs. Ingestre 
invited you. I wished to see justice done to one who has 
been most foully wronged. I was also desirious of clearing 
up a mystery that has troubled many besides ourselves of 
late. I allude to the poisoning of a woman known as Mrs 
Grant, at the Washington House ! ” 

A murmur of intense excitement ran through the room. 
Mr. Harding held his position, but his face had blanched 
to the color of death. 

“Since Earl Devonshire’s departure from our village,” 
the physician resumed, “ everything has been done that 
could be to brand him with this dastardly crime. You 
have nearly all thought him guilty. Pretended proof has 
been whispered about, but it was as fallacious and base as 


148 


THORNYCROFT GRANGE. 


the nature who originated it. Earl, come forward and 
prove your innocence ! ” 

Mr. Wells stepped toward the centre of the room. With 
a quick movement, goggles, wig and false beard were 
thrown aside, and there, beneath the brown satin and well- 
painted wrinkles that were still left upon his face, were to 
be seen the well-known features of Earl Devonshire. All 
cried out in amazement, while the surgeon ground his teeth in 
baffled fury. 

“Yes, my friends,” said the hero, in a cltar, ringing 
tone, “I am indeed Earl Devonshire, though I have been 
playing at a masquerade for the past few days. I had an 
end to work out, but it is accomplished, thank God ! 
That is why I left you so suddenly, and gave out word I was 
going to New York. I was determined to avenge the death 
of Mrs. Grant, by bringing the murderer to justice. I 
went away, never once suspecting that I should myself be 
charged with the dreadful deed. At the time, I had told 
no one of my object, lest I should be foiled in my attempt, 
and the ends of justice be defeated. But the time has at 
last come when I may speak out, and let the whole truth be 
known. The real murderer stands among you, in the 
person of Leonard Harding ! ” 

“It is a lie — an infamous slander ! ” cried the surgeon, 
leaping to his feet, and foaming with rage. “ I defy you 
to bring forward proofs of what you have said ! ” 

“ These shall be furnished in good time,” calmly returned 
our hero, sternly facing the infuriated man. “ You must 
remember that I have spent two or three days in your 
office, and that your private papers are kept in your secre- 
tary there ! Of course I have not hesitated to examine 
them. Your career of xrime is nearly run. And further- 
more, I have abundance of proof to show that the woman 
you murdered was your own wife ! ” 


THORNYCROFT GRANGE. 


149 


The surgeon cowed like a whipped cur. He saw that all 
was up with him. Maud Ingestre stepped forward, grasp- 
ing Earl’s arm. 

“ O Earl,” she cried, “ that man and Magdalen tried 
to make me believe that you were Mrs. Grant’s husband, and 
that you murdered her ! What was she to you ? Will you 
not tell me?” 

“Yes,” repeated the. surgeon, with a villainous smile, 
“what was she to you? This is a question which even I 
could not settle to my satisfaction. She was your para- 
mour, no doubt. A pretty wife for me to have claimed, 
was she not? ” 

“Spare your insinuations— they cannot hurt me,” Earl 
answered. “Neither will they reflect on the dead, when 
the truth is known. That woman was my sister ! ” 

Every one was astonished at this announcement, even 
Mr. Harding. This was the first he had known of the real 
connection between these two. 

“Yes, she was my sister,” he resumed, after a pause. 
“ We were orphans, and had been left in the charge of an 
uncle on my mother’s side. My sister Emily was older 
than myself. While I was at college, my uncle, a rich but 
very avaricious man, attempted to marry her to a wealthy 
banker old enough to have been her father. She refused, 
but he still persisted, and finally, as I have since discovered, 
brought her a letter purporting to have come from myself, 
in which I sanctioned the match, and urged her to wed the 
banker without delay, if she wished to retain my brotherly 
affection and approval. 

“This was too mftch. She saw herself beset on all 
sides, and finally fled from my uncle’s house, leaving no 
clue to her destination. She went to a distant country 
village ; and it was there, when laboring as the village 
schoolmistress, that she met Mr. Harding. He was spend- 


THORNYCROFT GRANGE, 


150 

ing a summer in the country, to recruit from the debauch- 
eries of a winter in town. He was there under an as- 
sumed name, that of Giles Raynham. 

“ In the village my sister was only known as Emily Lee. 
She never told her true name, lest some old friend should 
hear of it, and find her out. Mr. Harding soon taught her 
to love him with a devotion rare even in a woman ; but I 
have reason to think that not even to him did she ever con- 
fess the true secret of her birth. She thought I had turned 
against her, just as our uncle had done, and she was de- 
termined to have no further intercourse with either of us. 
That is why she persisted in keeping her secret, no doubt. 

“After a little, Mr. Harding took her to the nearest city, 
and married her there. I think he must have loved her 
then, for he was married under his true name, Leonard 
Harding, as I have learned from consulting this marriage 
certificate, which I foundj among many other papers, in 
his desk. After that, I have been able to gain but little 
clue to their movements until they came here to Linden- 
Car, though I think he shamefully abused her after a year 
or two, and finally deserted her. 

“ As for myself, when I learned of my sister’s flight, I 
made every possible exertion to discover her hiding place. 
When I at last learned the name of the village to which 
she had first flown, I hastened there without delay. But 
she was already gone, no one knew whither, and the most 
scandalous reports were being circulated concerning her 
and this Giles Raynham, as the villagers called him. From 
their stories, I could not doubt that she was a wronged 
and ruined girl ; and from that moment I ceased to look 
for her, or to regard her as my sister. This is the reason 
why, when you saw her picture on one occasion,” turning 
to Magdalen as he spoke, “ I did not tell you whose it 
really was, though it appears you must have subsequently 


THORNYCROFT GRANGE. 


151 

learned. And this, dear Maud,” addressing our heroine, 
“ is what I thought you meant when you told me you had 
discovered what the murdered woman was to me. I 
thought you had found out she was my sister, and a be- 
trayed woman, and your Ingestre pride had taken alarm 
at the thought of the disgrace. How sadly we have mis- 
judged each other, darling ! ” 

Maud nestled closer to him, hiding her face upon his 
shoulder. Finally he resumed : 

‘ 1 At last my sister came here, and was taken sick at the 
Washington House ; but I had no suspicion of her identity 
until that morning when Maud, Magdalen and myself 
called to look upon her dead body. I will not attempt to 
tell you how terribly I was shocked and surprised at the 
discovery which I then and there made. But somehow, 
the idea seemed to possess me, all at once, that I must 
discover the murderer, and bring him to justice ; and in 
order to succeed in my object, it would be necessary to 
preserve an unbroken silence respecting my own relation- 
ship toward her. That thought helped to calm me. The 
reading of the letter which had been found only confirmed 
me in my purpose, for I thought even then I had found 
a clue — that Leonard Harding answered the description 
given by the villagers of Giles Raynham, and was in all 
probability the guilty man. 

“I knew I had a wily person to deal with, and therefore 
went carefully to work, that he need suspect nothing. I 
remained about for a few days, but could learn nothing 
new, though I convinced myself, from a conversation 
held with Dame Alden, that Mr. Harding had found 
abundant opportunity to drop the poison into the cordial 
when he had visited my sister’s room, while she was still 
sleeping, that Tuesday afternoon before she died. I felt 
that my only hope was in getting into his office and search- 


152 


THORNYCROFT GRANGE. 


ing his effects.- To do this, I pretended to go to New 
York, and after 'a week or two, again make my appear- 
ance in the character of Gideon Wells. But I have suc- 
ceeded in my object. I have found the paper from which 
he took the strychnia ; I have also in my possession his 
marriage certificate, and the letter which my sister wrote 
him from the Washington House. It is precisely like the 
fragment found under her pillow, with the addition of a 
few more words.” 

He took from his pocket the identical letter over which 
the surgeon had been so much disturbed at the time of 
Magdalen’s first visit to his office. It was examined by 
Doctor Rynd and several others, and found to be, as Earl 
had said, a fac simile of the fragment taken from under 
the woman’s pillow. The conclusion was as follows : 

“ I am at the Washington House, dear Leonard, and am known as 
Mrs. Grant. My landlady says that I really require a physician, and 
you can attend me in that capacity without having our secret discov- 
ered, if you do not wish people here to know that I am your wife. I 
do entreat of you to come. 

“ Lovingly, your own Emily.” 

When the letter had been examined and commented 
-on by nearly all in the room, Earl finally resumed in con- 
clusion : 

“I am very thankful to know my sister was not the 
guilty creature I, as well as the villagers among whom she 
had first taken refuge, thought her, until the recent discov- 
eries which I have made. She was Leonard Harding’s 
lawfully wedded wife, and as such was to be pitied, and 
not blamed, for she loved him not wisely, but too well. 
May she rest in peace ! ” 

When Earl had concluded his recital, Harding sat glar- 
ing from one to another in a sort of fierce, fiery despair. 


THORNYCROFT GRANGE. 1 53 

He read suspicion and horrified disgust in every averted 
eye. 

He turned for one glance at Maud. She and Earl were 
still standing close together, her head on his shoulder, his 
arms folded about her. This was the woman for whom 
he had risked so much — had even stained his soul with 
the most fearful of crimes to possess ; and now she was 
lost to him forever, was resting in another’s arms ! The 
sight was too much for him, and with a cry of thrilling 
anguish, he suddenly darted through one of the open win- 
dows, ere any one could mistrust his intention, and sped 
madly down the garden walk. 

Most of the men started immediately in pursuit ; and so 
the little company was broken up in confusion, until there 
was no one left at the Grange besides the family, except 
Earl and Magdalen Duprez. 

Magdalen was completely humbled and broken down. 
The utter failure of her schemes had subdued her proud 
haughtiness, and she confessed the whole truth with many 
bitter tears, and passionate entreaties for forgiveness. She 
became a better and a nobler woman for the experience 
through which she had passed. 

Those who had started in pursuit of Leonard Harding 
eventually found him in his office, sitting in his arm-chair 
by the secretary, his face dropped into his hands. They 
went forward, raising his head almost roughly, but imme- 
diately dropped it again, with exclamations of surprise. 
He was dead. A felon’s doom had seemed too awful, and 
so he had taken his own miserable life. 


[the end.] 


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